Christina Hendricks Needs an 18 Year Old Boytags: blowjob, titfuck, anal, MILF, femdom, abuse, bullyfucking, humiliation kink, SPH, older woman, younger man, bbw, feet, m/f, f/f, m/ff, mm/f, very light m/m
summary: Christina Hendricks ruins a teenage boy's life, and he loves it.
There is a document that is feared and dreaded throughout Hollywood.
It is called a *perquisites sheet*.
Supplied by an A-list celebrity's agent prior to a shoot, it details the star's requirements. Their transport wishes. Their dietary needs. Their (often grotesque) personal proclivities.
Mariah Carey demands Cristal Champagne with bendy straws, and kittens and doves for her dressing room. Justin Timberlake insists that all doorknobs in the vicinity be disinfected on a rolling two-hour schedule. Jennifer Lopez requires that everything in her dressing room be completely white—curtains, couches, candles, flowers, and wallpaper.
The perquisites sheet is non-negotiable. Its demands, however unreasonable, must be satisfied to the letter. This is the reality of working with a "name".
In 2025, one month before her fiftieth birthday,
Mad Men alumnus Christina Hendricks signed on to appear in a TV ad for telecom giant TeraKnyfe. Her agency delivered her perquisites sheet three days prior to the shoot.
Its contents were as follows:
- Roja Haute Luxe floral-scented perfume
- A salon-grade makeup station with 360 degree ring lightning
- Artisanal vanilla-birch triple-wick candles
- A bottle of Dom Pérignon, 2008 vintage
- A set of hand-blown crystal flutes, for Ms C. Hendricks and her PA, Ms Z. Danieloupolis
- A Himalayan salt lamp
- An 18-year-old boy
---
Why am I here? Dad's never taken me to a film shoot before.David Schneider stood at the center of the chaotic set, his palms sweating.
A blitzkrieg of noise hammered against his skull. His dazed eyes drank in pandemonium and nearly drowned: he saw carpenters assembling a stage, gaffers running lines for lights and electricity, rigging technicians assembling camera mounts and locking down dolly tracks. Everywhere, a swirling
Cirque du Soleil of movement, flux, and noise.
The set held thirty people, all frantically preparing for Christina Hendricks' arrival...and one who was doing absolutely nothing.
A pair of production best-boys hustled past David. He heard their whispers.
"Why's that dumbshit kid just standing there?""Leave him alone, he's the director's son."David's face burned with shame.
Dumbshit kid.Then he saw his father in the crowd and lunged for him. "Um, dad! Is there anything I should be doing here?"
"Nope!" His father didn't even turn around. "Just have fun, kiddo!"
Ivan Schneider was a large, loud, obnoxiously hard-working ad director who spent all day juggling hundreds of plates and treated his son as just another piece of spinning crockery. A problem to be assessed, triaged, then handed off to someone else.
"But dad, this is really awkward. Everyone's staring at me..."
"No, don't thank me. I've been meaning to take you along to a shoot for years!" His dad absentmindedly waved the production schedule clutched inside a meaty fist. "Really show you how an ad gets made. Consider it another birthday present! Now, if you'll excuse me..."
His dad stomped away to yell at someone.
A birthday present. David didn't
feel like he was eighteen years old.
Take the first decimal off that number. Or maybe the second.A vicious punch stung his arm.
"Ow!" He turned, and saw his friend Greg.
"Have a good birthday, Gayvid?"A smirk twisted puffy, debauched lips, gleaming wetly under sharp greyhound eyes.
Greg Torrance cut a tall and scrawny silhouette. He was David's age but had the swagger of a man ten years older. Ten years *meaner*. They'd been unlikely friends since grade-school: the heir of three generations of famous TV directors; and the heir of three generations of worthless alcoholic deadbeats. Yin and yang; two boys trying to fill their emptiness with the other's substance.
Greg wanted David's wealth and privilege. David would have gladly giftwrapped it to him in return for a glimmer of Greg's cool, streetwise toughness. He was honored that Greg wanted to be his friend, and took his endless teasing and mockery in stride.
It's how friends talk to each other, right? David didn't know. He'd never really had any friends, aside from Greg.
He pretended to laugh at the
Gayvid jibe, resentment tearing claws through his chest.
You're not doing any work either, but nobody's asking why you're on the set. Or calling you a dumbshit kid. Damn it, Greg, what do you have that I don't?He watched Greg saunter away, pinching a D-girl's ass as he went. She slapped away his hand, squealing in shocked delight. David felt a bitter surge of envy as they started flirting.
Of course Greg gets away with that. If I pinched a woman's ass, it'd be the last day I saw sunlight.Then Greg's gaze flicked over the D-girl's shoulder to the street. His eyes went wide.
A limo was pulling in to the curb.
"Fuck me! It's Christina! She's here already! C'mon, Dave, or we'll miss her!"
---
The limo door swung open. Christina Hendricks got out.
She stood; brushed a crease from her elegant equestrian riding jacket, and smiled at the thirty-plus men of the film crew who'd gathered to receive her.
David's jaw clenched—she
hurt to look at.
She was tall. At least 5'9 in stockinged feet, and her black Louboutin Pigalles lifted her to a valkyrie-esque 6'0. Flame-red hair fell in pigtails around her refined chalcedony-hewed features.
She blew a kiss to the lovesick men, then crossed from the limo to the set. She walked with the slinky, ice-cold deportment of an international runway model.
Her body, however, was not engineered to runway spec.
Christina Hendricks was built like a schoolboy's fantasy. She was pornographic.
Obscene. Erotically overfleshed in a violent, lust-maddeningly way that turned boys into men and men into pigs. Her hips were sybaritically wide. Her rump could have fit two normal butts inside it. A chic equestrian riding jacket caught and snatched her figure into a perilously overfilled hourglass. Her massively thick legs and ass were poured into backstitched silicone jodhpurs that gripped every debaucherous curve of hip, thigh, and calf.
Huge breasts wobbled ponderously inside her riding jacket—the tightly-cut navy-blue fit did nothing to hide the bowling-ball sized mountains of flesh violently jolting and rebounding with each step she took. David sprouted a honking erection at the sheer amount of
jiggling inside Christina's packed-to-exploding jacket. He writhed painfully, trying to disguise the bulge stabbing his private academy slacks. Greg snickered at David's misery—but not very hard.
He was covering his crotch with his hands too.
Christina sauntered and sashayed among the film crew; charming, smarming, disarming. She smiled, flirted, giggled, touched shoulders, asked for names, spoke saccharine nothings. She was in her late 40s, and radiated a comfortable MILFy energy. A mom you'd self-mutilate for, just so you'd have a booboo for her to kiss and make better, it took Christina less than a minute to wrap the entire film crew around her finger.
In the brief seconds David was able to stop eye-fucking her outrageous Neolithic fertility-goddess body, he saw a
second person get out of Christina's limo.
A girl, with short blue hair, scissored and shaved in an androgynous pageboy cut. She was young, with a compact, curvy body that was covered in tattoos of snakes. Her breasts were half the size of Christina's—which meant a mere four times bigger than the average woman's. Struggling and straining, the girl hauled a half-dozen heavy bags from the limo to the street, then hurried to catch up with her mistress.
Christina's take-no-prisoners charm blitzkrieg ended in from of Ivan Schneider and his son.
"Ivan!" she trilled. "So good to see you again."
David's father beamed. "The pleasure's all mine."
Then the girl with the blue pageboy trotted up beside them, panting with exhaustion. Christina clapped a hand on her shoulder, and planted a kiss on her cheek. The girl blushed demurely. One stockinged ankle kicked against another.
"This is my new personal assistant, Zoe Danieloupolis."
At the word *personal*, Zoe brayed laughter, screwing up her adorably cute nose. David couldn't figure out what was so funny.
Then Christina's eyes slid across, settling on David. "And who might this be?"
"My son David!" Ivan slapped David's back, making him cringe. "He's here for work experience!"
Then he leaned in, whispering conspiratorially in Christina's ear.
"A birthday present. He just turned eighteen."
"I see." Christina chewed her lip thoughtfully, her face unreadable. "Perhaps you'd better leave me with him for a minute."
"Of course." Ivan walked away, clapping his hands, bawling at the others to get back to work.
...and then the three of them were alone. David, Christina, and Zoe.
Christina's lewd whorehouse madame eyes were all over David. Dissecting him. Taking him apart like a butcher's hacksaw. Her maternal warmth was now cut with something sinister: a predator's rapacious hunger. She had the eyes of a snake that swallows mice whole and shits out a bag of twisted skin.
A hand flicked out. A finger pushed his chin up.
"Stand up straight," Christina commanded. "I want a better look at you."
David stiffened his back, trying not to wilt before Christina's domineering gaze. She was four inches taller than him, and probably eighty pounds heavier.
Mommy. He felt like a child before her, one that might deserve cossetting or punishment. He just wanted to crawl into her arms, nestle his head between those huge motorcycle-helmet-sized breasts, go to sleep, and probably never awaken...
"He's kinda cute!" Zoe giggled.
"He's *adorable*!" Christina squealed and patted him on the head as if he was a puppy. "Well, David, I don't have a birthday gift for you, so how about a kiss?"
Moving with stunning boldness, she pounced on him. She gripped his head, and pulled him into an aggressive, ravenous smooch.
SMACK!David had no words. Even if he'd had them, he no longer had a *mouth*.
The kiss was lewd and hot and sexual. The sensuous pressure—her cheekbones, her skin, her lips—smashed through him like a hammerstroke cutting through marble. He shuddered. His cock squirted an involuntary jet of pre-cum down a shivering scrawny thigh. He'd expected to be kissed on the cheek—and that alone would have fueled his next six hundred cock-flogging sessions—but her crimson-maned head was latched onto his like a facehugger, smothering his mouth in a flamenco-red lipstick onslaught.
Her tongue—oh god—*her tongue* was inside his mouth!
Exploring!As she violated him with her lips and mouth, Christina thrust her buxom body against his, pushing him back against a wall. He prayed she couldn't feel his erection throbbing against her jodhpurs as she straddled him with her thighs, practically humping him.
Squelch!Her water-barrel sized-tits swelled massively against David's chest, pinning him to the wall. They were so huge and meaty and heavy that it was like being in the path of a steamroller. He glanced past her cheek, down her neck, and saw her thick body bulging out, almost bursting apart her outfit.
How is she so big? And so...fuckable?Just when he thought he was about to die from crushing or asphyxiation between her boobs, she broke the lip-lock.
"God, barely-legal boys are fun to kiss," Christina panted lustfully, easing back a little so he could breathe. Her hands stayed on his shoulders.
"As much fun as barely-legal girls?" Zoe gave another far-too-clever fox-laugh, and David realized how extremely
young she was. Maybe only a year older than him.
"Such a mouth on you!" Christina laughed, her face flushed. "Well, he's gotten me all hot and bothered, anyway!"
She unbuttoned her riding jacket. It gaped wide, matching David's mouth. Beneath the jacket, she wore an undershirt that was exploding with cleavage. Her industrial-sized bra pushed a sweaty mountain of breastflesh up her neck, threatening to bury her skull in her own cleavage. Christina's breasts were so big they barely registered as *breasts*—they looked more like a pair of butt-cheeks stuffed down the front of her shirt.
Christina pulled off the jacket, and held expectantly at arm's length. "A-hem!"
Zoe stepped forward to take the jacket.
Christina's hand flew out, striking her cheek.
WHAP!The girl's head snapped sideways. David almost jumped out of his skin. The sharp note of skin on skin rang out in, startlingly loud, the echo hanging over the cold air like a scythe blade.
I'm dreaming*, David thought, trying to stop his racing heart. *She didn't just do that.Zoe faced Christina, her eyes wide and shocked. A bloody red spot stood out like a jewel on her left cheekbone.
Christina wagged a remonstrative finger. "Bad, Zoe! Bad, bad,
bad Zoe! Did I tell you to take my jacket? No. Obviously, I meant it for *David*."
"I'm sorry, Christina!" Zoe whimpered, hands clasped. "I made a mistake! I'll never do it again! Please forgive me!"
"Hmm..." Christina laid hands on her buxom hips, and chewed her lip thoughtfully.
Silence dragged out for twenty agonizing seconds. Then...
"Kneel," Christina whispered to her assistant, eyes smoldering like coals.
Zoe's voice diminished to a whisper. "But the gravel...my knees...this skirt's a rental!"
"*Kneel*, Miss Danieloupolis." Christina's tight smile became a single hard white line, like a chalk outline at a murder scene.
Tears filling her eyes, Zoe kneeled in humiliation before her mistress. A worshipper, supplicating a savage, brutal blood-hungry god. Christina towered imperiously over Zoe, dwarfing her beneath those wrecking ball tits.
Zoe probably can't even see Christina's face past those things, David thought.
"Is...that enough?" Zoe asked timidly, her face pressed to the ground.
"No," Christina said with gleeful and horribly practiced cruelty. "I need you to prove that you understand just how badly you insulted my new friend."
David began stammering. "Um...It's okay! I wasn't insulted—"
"Shut up. Be quiet until I speak to you." Christina didn't turn to him; nor did her smile shrink.
David was drowning in sweat, totally under the spell of this huge, terrifying MILF. He'd
never been so horny, not even when he'd attempted No Fap November (in his case, it had turned into No Fap November 2nd, 11:30am). His cock was nearly ripping a hole in his pants.
What happened next almost made him pass out.
Still kneeling on the ground, Zoe leaned forward, and kissed Christina's feet. She planted her lips on her mistress's raised-arch pumps. First the right. Then the left.
"Forgive me, Christina," Zoe said as she drew back. Venom-blue lipstick now stained the glossy black Christian Louboutins.
Christina nodded. "Stand, Miss Danieloupolis, and comport yourself more respectfully herewith," Christina bopped her on the nose like a bad dog. "Next time, I won't forgive so easily."
Chastened, Zoe stood, brushing dirt from her ruined skirt.
Christina swiftly spun back to David, who yanked his stare off her tit-wobbling undershirt.
"Well? Don't just stand there, boy. Hang up my jacket in the wardrobe room."
She tossed the equestrian jacket into David's arms. He scrabbled for it, and for a horrid moment almost let it fall into the dirt.
"Right away, Miss Hendricks!"
"What a gentleman!" Christina cooed, all sunshine and silk, patting him gently on the cheek with the hand she'd just beaten her assistant bloody with. "I love it when young men are...accommodating to my needs. We'll get to know each other more later, David."
Then she sauntered away.
David stared wide-eyed at Christina's monstrous backside. She rolled her enormous ass from side to side, her doorbusting hips and buttocks threatening to break every stitch in the jodhpurs. With every stride, her giant milkers wobbled massively, their huge slosh and bounce visible even past her body.
Zoe giggled softly at him, covering her mouth so the older woman wouldn't hear.
There was something about this girl that he didn't like.
"You're in luck," Zoe whispered nastily, her blue lips pursed like coiled snakes. "She loves boys who are *virgins*."
Then she left to follow the massive wake of Christina Hendricks' swinging ass.
David was quivering. About to explode. Like a can of soft drink that had rattled in a high-speed tumble dryer for an hour.
Where was the wardrobe in this place?
And far more urgently, where was the bathroom?
---
"Ugh! Ahh! Ahhhh!"
David jerked off in a toilet stall. Sweat slid down his face. The bathroom was full of the sound of his slippery, pumping fist.
He'd masturbated less than an hour ago, but the memory of Christina's elephantine boobs jiggling inside her shirt...they
haunted him.
There was only one exorcism possible for such a haunting.
A dozen frantic jerks later, his prick erupted, firing out a gooey mess that splattered across the toilet seat. He copiously emptied his balls, his five-inch cock pumping out white strands, then ejaculating empty air, twitching painfully.
His heart racing and his brain flooded with orgasm-chemicals, David ripped a length of toilet paper off the roll, wiped up the sperm he'd Jackson Pollock'd across the toilet stall, flushed the evidence, unlatched the door, and...
...ran straight into Greg.
"Yo, Gayvid!" his friend grinned repugnantly.
"Stop calling me that," David said, trying to match his friend's banter. "Or I might start calling you...er...Dreg...or something..."
Greg pushed past him, and stared at the toilet he'd just flushed a generation of unborn children down.
"Did you just jack off, Gayvid?"
"What? Er, no!"
"Ha. I listened outside the stall. You were going to pound town on your chode, my guy. Bit of a quickshot, arentcha? That took all of forty seconds."
"I wasn't jerking off, I was taking a shit." David felt sweat-stains spreading out from his armpits.
What would Greg do in this situation? He'd laugh. Turn it into a joke. "I was enjoying a nice hot crappucino!"
This sounded funny in his head but stupid as soon as it left his mouth. He immediately regretted saying it.
"A 'nice hot crappucino', huh?" Greg shook his head with a pitying smile. "Then why's there no shit in the bowl?"
"Er...well..."
Greg shrugged, and walked to the urinals.
"I don't blame you, Gayvid. That Christina Hendricks bitch is fucking *jugged*. Some women are built like a brick shithouse. She's built like a brick shitmansion. You're one lucky kid."
"Why am I lucky?"
Greg turned to look at him in confusion. "You seriously don't know the reason your dad brought you to this set today?"
"No."
"Then I won't spoil it." Greg tapped a finger to his lips conspiratorially. "Stories about that woman get around. That's all I'll say."
Then he unzipped his pants to take a piss. Or tried to. The zipper seemed to catch against a large bulge in his pants.
"You're lucky. Really lucky."
The zipper finally slipped past the blockage, and Greg's jeans fell around his ankles. David watched in horror as Greg reached into his stained, dirty boxers, hauled out an enormous soft white organ, and let it drop between his thighs.
Smack!A huge stalk of flesh bounced against Greg's leg. It swung back and forth between his hairy thighs like a pendulum—so long it dangled more than halfway down to Greg's knees.
"But then," Greg said as he faced the urinal and began to piss. "Some of us are lucky in other ways."
---
David hurried away, his emotions a swirling chiaroscuro.
He'd just seen his best friend's penis. Despite being flaccid, it had been longer than his own by half.
David had been insecure about his penis for as long as he could remember. He regularly woke up from nightmares of girls pointing at his cock and laughing.
Five point two inches. The number was lithographically engraved in his neocortex, at a place where bus timetables and calculus derivatives feared to tread. It seemed to summarize him as a person: not quite adequate.
Is a 5.2" penis really that small? He'd read online that the average male penis length was six inches...But that couldn't be right, could it? Men exaggerate. Surely the real average was lower.
Even so, he'd spent years religiously doing jelqing and stretching and countless other exercises, purchasing one scam remedy after another. He'd measured his dick thousands of times, shoving the ruler so deep into his pubis that it had left a permanent scar in his skin, trying to coax an extra fraction of an inch out of the stubborn measurement line.
Please just get bigger! I spent a thousand dollars of my pocket money on pills. Please, God, just give me another tenth of an inch, and I'll be happy!Once, he'd gotten up the courage to ask his mom if women cared about a man's dick size. She'd laughed and kissed him. "Absolutely not! No woman is even
slightly concerned about that. We care about your personality, your sense of humor, and who you are as a person.
That's what matters. Not what's in your pants."
He'd looked up at her pleadingly. "...so if I'm a little small, it's okay?"
This frank confession had brought his mom up short. Her eyes broke contact. They seemed to hold something like pity.
"David, you are a
wonderful young man, just the way you are. Any woman would be lucky to have you. Remember that."
---
I'm a wonderful young man. Any woman would be lucky to have me. David repeated his mother's words until the small-penis anxiety eased. Usually, it took thirty seconds. This time, it took five minutes.
I'm a wonderful young man. Any woman would be lucky to have me.Once the anxiety stopped, David went to watch the shoot. He joined Greg Torrance, Zoe Danieloupolis, and most of the crew at the edge of what Ivan called "The Line", peering past the camera equipment to the set beyond.
He'd read the ad's production script in his dad's apartment the night before.
Two people stand in a room. One—call him Mr Dumb—is bitching about slow internet speeds. The other—call him Mr Smart—has just signed up for TeraKnyfe Broadband's High-Speed Enterprise Grade Package.Mr Smart demonstrates TeraKnyfe's unparalleled bandwidth by literally downloading real-world things into the room. With a click of the mouse, a menagerie of animals explodes through the screen. His living room is now packed with roaring lions, trumpeting elephants, and impotent pandas."Big deal." Mr Stupid scoffs while dodging stampeding antelope. "What else can TeraKnyfe do?"Mr Smart clicks again, and wins the argument by downloading...Christina Hendricks!"Hello, boys," she says, climbing through the computer screen. She flicks her flame red tresses over one shoulder, and thrusts her chest out to reveal an ocean of cleavage. "It was a tight fit, but I'm here."The end. Yadda yadda, not actual claim about product, terms and conditions apply.It was a dumb concept, and the telecommunications package it was shilling had a whopping 1.3/5 rating on Trustpilot, but Ivan Schneider had bills to pay.
The ad was effects-heavy, and would be farmed out to VFX studios working for peon wages in whatever third-world shithole offered tax breaks that year. Ivan's only role was to shoot the live-action stuff, and obtain clean reference plates. In particular, he needed lots of footage of Christina Hendricks rolling, diving, and tumbling through a dazzling CGI vortex as she was sucked through the internet to the man's house. This meant dressing her up in a black lycra mocap suit, and hanging her from the ceiling like an acrobat.
David got to watch on the sidelines as Christina hung in space, suspended from nylon cables. She twisted and pirouetted and spun and writhed seductively, going through pose after pose, with Ivan orchestrating her lush body from the director's chair.
Stop! And...go! And... turn! And...cut!David gaped as Christina's voluptuous body swung and bounced. Each time she wriggled, epicurean oceans of flesh sloshed beneath the skintight mo-cap suit.
Christina was more than just thick. She was chubby. Perhaps outright fat. Her midsection was soft and paunchy. Excess flesh slopped from her huge ass and thick legs. Whenever she twisted upside down, her colossal doughy breasts blobbed from her torso like half-deflated basketballs, their sheer weight almost bursting twin holes in the taut-stretched lycra suit.
David saw Greg chatting with Zoe Danieloupolis. He was struck by how different—and how complementary—this girl was for her mistress.
Chunky, obscenely-built, and mega-busty, Christina Hendricks was a disgustingly rich chocolate cake. The sort that you'd try and fail to eat in one go, sickened by sheer excess. Cool, blue, and compact, Zoe was a refreshing breath mint for after.
The wobbling tits on display soon provoked another bulge. This one in David's pants.
He slunk away to the bathroom again. As he passed Greg and Zoe, his friend gave him a knowing wink.
Another nice hot crappucino, eh Gayvid? David didn't care if he was being obvious about it. He had to jerk off again. Had to. It didn't matter that he'd already done it twice today. Lust, like life, was unfair.
Masturbation. The disgusting habit he practiced at least thirty times per week, rain or shine. Each miserable, messy gush and spasm a reminder that he had no girlfriend, no prospects, no contact with any woman whose name didn't end in .jpg.
His hand didn't give a shit whether his dick was large or small. At least there was that.
He tried not to think about his friend's penis as he stroked his raw, chafed cock.
What's wrong with me? Why can't I stop thinking about Greg's penis?He filled his mind with the way Christina's lips had felt, the way she'd held him, the way her cleavage had flooded across his chest like gallons of warm soft bread dough.
Five seconds later, he was conducting a shoot of his own. He bleated pathetically, his knees knocking together as he busted for the second time in an hour.
---
Forty minutes passed, before Ivan yelled
cut for the final time.
Christina was cut loose from the harness, and strode to the edge of The Line.
Strode to where David stood.
She pulled off her mocap hairpiece. Her hair flew in wild disarray over her flushed, sweaty face. Her huge knockers wobbled inside black lycra, sweat stains soaking through the outlines of her bra cups.
"I can't wait anymore," she panted desperately, a woman barely in control. Flushed red spots danced beneath her skin. "I'm leaking through the crotch of this suit."
She gripped his hand.
"I'm supposed to leave you alone until we're at home afterward, but I need a teenage cock in me *right now*."
What the fuck—In full view of dozens of witnesses, the 49-year-old woman dragged him at a brisk march to the back of the set, where her personal makeup and changing quarters were. NO ADMITTANCE BEYOND THIS POINT, a sign warned in purple, feminine typescript.
She flung open the door, pushed David through—he landed with an undignified flop on a full-sized chaise lounge, in the shadow of a cabinet-sized makeup mirror—and followed him in, slamming the door behind him.
"I'm horny enough to rape an Arriflex 35," she said, stalking toward him like a lioness. "If I don't get stuffed, I'm going to lose control."
She lunged, pouncing on him, pressing him bodily against the chaise. Her thick body was wriggling all over his, lycra-sheathed boobs sloshed against his bare skin.
"In fact, I'm probably going to lose control anyway."
Christina gripped his shoulders, and loomed over him. Her wild red hair trailed down toward his face. Her eyes were ravenous. Starving.
She kissed him, squeezed him, groped him, mauled him, molested him, humped him like a bitch in heat. Her fingernails clawed him, cutting little half-moon shapes into his shuddering skin. He winced and gasped, pleasure at war with pain. He was too shocked to articulate words. He'd understood the joke right in the middle of the punchline.
Dad brought me here so she can fuck me. That's what's going on. That's what Greg meant.With her thick thighs pinning him in place, the sex-berserk woman began ripping off his clothes. His shoes, socks, shirt, and jeans all went
thud and
flump on the floor.
Her fingers squeezed his crotch. His exhausted cock lethargically began to chub.
"I hope you've saved up lots of sperm for me." Christina plunged her head into the curve of his shivering neck, breathing words into his skin like dragonfire. Each syllable *glowed*. "I love huge teenaged loads splattering against my back walls."
She lay across him, smothering him in kisses. He felt her excited heartbeat pounding beneath the lycra outfit.
Thud. Thud. Thud.Oh God. His eyes stared in horror at the ceiling. Strange how you could long for something to happen...and dread it.
With a sinuous motion of her hips, she pulled back. Her hot slippery tongue coiled over his navel, tracing a wet line down through his treasure trail. All he could see was a wild tangle of red hair obscuring his crotch.
"We're going to do it here, David," Christina whispered, gripping his underwear with both hands. "And then we'll go back to my mansion, and do it all night. Brace yourself. You won't get any sleep tonight. I fuck a *lot*."
She yanked his boxers down. His shaft popped out.
"Hmm."
Christina stared at his sad, small, half-flaccid penis. It was a little beneath five inches long. She wrinkled her nose at the obvious scent of dried cum lingering around his crotch.
"...And this is the part where you assure me it gets bigger?" She raised a tawny eyebrow. Half amused, half concerned.
"It does," he said. "A little."
She flashed a toothy smile, and began blowing him.
Her moist lips engulfed his cock. He grunted softly, bumping his hips up against her face, trying to control his racing heart. His tip was chafed raw after three dates with his hand in rapid succession, and she was extremely rough.
As Christina slurped and sucked his limp dick, David began to panic.
He had to get erect. Had to *perform*, or he was dead.
This woman could turn into a monster on a dime. He'd seen her thrash her assistant for practically nothing. God only knew what she'd do to
him if he failed to satisfy her.
Get hard, he thought to his dick.
Get hard. This is literally a wet dream come true—if only you get hard!As Christina fellated his tiny dick, her eyes drifted up to him. They were smoldering with impatience. Then with contempt.
Well? her sapphire-blue eyes seemed to say.
Is there an issue?Frantically, he replayed his most potent masturbatory fantasies—the time he'd stolen his sister's panties and autoerotically asphyxiated by wadding the pungent crotch around his nose, the time he'd helped his big-assed mom tug a thong strap out of her sweaty buttcrack while she was suntanning, the time at school he'd stolen busty Mrs Shapira's bra and jerked off into the 32GG cups so many times it had grown green and crusty by the end of the term—drenching endorphin receptors in an bleary orgy of sin and flesh and tits and ass. Pornographic fantasy was the only real talent he had. And unfortunately, he'd gotten far too good at it. He meant to get erect, but he fantasized so hard that he overshot the mark.
Literally overshot.
Without warning, an orgasm erupted in his crotch; like the blossoming of some dreadful flower.
He couldn't stop it.
No! No! NOOOOO! he thought as he prematurely ejaculated.
"The fuck?" Christina's words were choked and muffled—*duhh-fuhhk?*—by the five-inch cock that was bouncing and jumping against her tongue, releasing a thin dribble of cum.
David had virtually nothing in his balls. He'd jacked off three times in as many hours, and his testes were nearly totally empty. His shaft welled up, spat a single desultory rope into her black sucking maw, and spasmed in dry convulsions for twenty seconds—as rubbery as a Panic Pete stress doll, and as sexually potent.
Christina spat out the limp, disappointing dick. It flopped into his barely-existent pubic thatch and shrank, looking as humiliated as he was.
"Oh...FUCK! OFF!" Her snarling lips seemed to scissor the words brutally short. "You
cannot be serious!"
She reared vengefully over him, looking furious enough to breathe fire. A lock of incarnadine hair swung from her scalp, and tickled his forehead.
"What was that?
What the hell was that?"David couldn't think. Couldn't speak. He felt sleepy. There had been no pleasure in the climax. It had been as unsatisfying for him as it was for her.
"Uhhh...." was all he got out through a prolactin-induced fog.
She stood up, hands on hips. "That was pathetic. You weren't supposed to cum in my mouth, idiot. Not that I'd call that cumming. How many times have you jerked off today?"
"None!"
"Liar. You've been wanking like a chimp. I can always tell when boys waste their sperm. When they waste
my sperm. *How many times today?*"
"Once! Just once!"
"Then, naturally, another round won't be a problem," Christina closed her eyes. When she opened them, rage had gone from her face. "Let's forget this even happened, and try again." She smiled winsomely. Dangerously. "But I warn you, David,
this is your last chance."Then lifted up one thick thigh, and stomped a foot down on the lounge beside his head.
"Get hard and fuck me. Right now."
David was paralyzed. His mouth went dry.
He stared at the small, shriveled penis between his legs, and tried to pump some blood back into.
Come on. Get hard. Fuck Christina Hendricks. You can do it!Nothing happened.
Christina laughed scornfully. She leaned further over him. Her dangling boobs swung and hovered over his face.
"This is *sad*. You're a teenage boy, for God's sake! You're meant to be able to slam pussy all day! That's your only redeeming quality—I don't spend my life chasing boys your age for their hygiene or conversational skills."
"So you fuck other boys?" he said, trying to take his mind off things.
Her eyes slitted malignantly. "Hundreds of them. Does knowing that turn you on? Does it arouse you? Do you like hearing about other boys' penises? Is that how you plan on getting hard?"
David was aghast. Horrified. "No! I'm sorry!"
"Good. We can make small talk, or we can fuck. Personally, I'd rather fuck." She glared at his limp penis, as if it owed her money.
He furiously replayed a highlight reel of his most sordid wank fantasies.
His sister's cunt. His mom's ass. His substitute teacher's tits. His favorite porn star. His second favorite porn star. His 27th favorite porn star. He even imagined his grandma naked—fuck it, maybe he had a GILF fetish and just didn't know it yet.Nothing worked. His cock was *finito*. Totally and utterly out of commission.
Christina gave his DOA penis a spiteful flick with her painted nails.
"I expected better from Ivan's son. Get dressed and leave. I have no further use for you."
---
Rejection!
Rejection, by the hottest woman in the world!
Anguish crescendo'd inside him. "No! Just give me some time! PLEASE!"
Then he had an idea. "Um, hey, if you want to cum, I can eat your pussy!"
Christina touched a finger to her lips. "Hmm. Intriguing concept."
Then she rang a small bell beside her makeup station. Even through it produced a barely-audible tinkle, Zoe immediately appeared in the room, as though yanked in by a vaudevillian shepherd's crook.
"Miss Hendricks?"
Christina waved a hand contemptuously toward the naked, impotent boy lying on her lounge.
"As David is having
performance issues..." she said in tones as scathing as 40-grit sandpaper. "I require oral attention."
Zoe sighed in mock-exasperation. "If I must."
Christina pulled down her lycra mocap pants. She hadn't been joking about leaking through them. A strand of glistening liquid connected her pussy to the crotch of the pants, finally severing as the pants came down.
Christina plopped her huge ass on the lounge, and spread her fat legs whorishly wide. A meaty, swollen twat glistened beneath a musky, shaven fupa.
"Suck my cunt," Christina said. "I want it like this morning. Some fingernail action wouldn't go amiss, either."
David got a clear view of Christina's shaven twat. It was pudgy and fat and moist. He could see the pucker of her butthole beneath it.
Zoe rolled her eyes, climbed onto the chaise with them, and began to crawl between her mistress's thick cellulite-marbled thighs.
"No need!" David said. "I'll do it!"
He pushed past Zoe, and tried to plant his face into her cunt.
Rage twisted Christina's face.
Snarling, she lashed out with her foot, kicking him in the chest.
"Fucking brat!"
Her legs were stunningly strong. He hit the wall. Then she lunged at him, brutally beating him. Her hand rose and fell, striking him around the head.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!"You tried to rape me!" She screamed between slaps. "Fucking piece of shit! Do that again and I'll get you thrown in prison forever! Don't fucking try me!"
Rape her? I wasn't trying to rape her.He backed away from the rage-filled woman as she hit him. Her boobs flew around her like speedbags, nearly escaping the lycra outfit.
He babbled pathetically. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to..."
She held back her hand. "Did you not hear my clearly spoken 'no'?"
"Um, well..."
Had Christina actually said no? He couldn't remember. His memories were as jumbled as 52-card-pickup. Blood flowed down his face from a cut made by the diamond ring on her hand.
"...And having heard my refusal, did you still try to put your tongue inside me, regardless?"
"Well, uh..."
"That's attempted rape, David," her mouth slit in a cruel, manipulative smile. "Zoe, does this line up with what you saw?"
"Yep," Zoe said smugly from across the lounge. "He absolutely ignored a verbal 'no'. I'll testify to it in court, if I have to."
"There you go." Christina said. "Should I tell Ivan that his son tried to rape me? Think of how disappointed he'll be. Or maybe I'll just go to the LAPD."
David was caught in a nightmare. Images of prison filled his mind.
I thought she consented!"...but Christina...you said you *required oral attention!*"
Christina sighed in exaggerated patience. "First off, my name to you is 'Miss Hendricks' or 'ma'am'. Second, the sentence 'I require oral attention' does not mean 'I require oral attention from David Schneider.' You're a virgin, and munching carpet is Zoe's full time job. Obviously my request was implicitly directed at her, even if I didn't explicitly say her name."
Then she smiled. Anger fled her famous face, replaced by a mordant sense of amusement, like a kid pulling legs off a crippled insect.
"You
insulted me, David. That's the real problem here. I will forgive your attempted rape. But first, you must show that you are worthy of forgiveness."
This is a game. He realized.
A sick, twisted game. And I'm not even another player. I'm a pawn. No. I'm the chessboard. Or maybe a piece of pigeon shit beneath the chessboard. All he knew was that winning was impossible.
Christina sat on the chaise lounge. Her dump truck of an ass flooded out beneath her.
"Kneel, David."
He kneeled between her legs, like he'd seen Zoe do in the parking lot. "I am sorry, Christina. Please forgive me."
She folded her legs, and lifting up her sock-clad feet.
"You're sorry, are you? Prove it."
She wriggled her toes beneath his nose. She'd been sweating into the socks for hours, and the stale odor of her feet made him recoil.
Swallowing his gag reflex, he kissed Christina's feet. Left, then right.
She tutted, extended a thick leg into his chest, and thrust him back into the wall the chaise laid adjacent to.
"Just two kisses?" Her foot dug into his throat, choking him. "That's all my feet deserve? No. Take my socks off. Lick the toes."
David peeled off Christina's sticky, moist socks, gagging at the aroma wafting off them. Her feet were pale and surprisingly delicate for such a massive woman.
He looked up, and saw her nipples were bulging through the lycra. Her clit throbbed between her big, engorged petals. Abusing him seemed to arouse her, even more than the prospect of having her pussy eaten..
He started to suck Christina's toes. As he suckled and nursed on the digits, he heard Zoe climb on top of the huge-titted woman, and begin cunnilinging her.
"Oooh! Oh! Ooooh! Ahhh!" Gigantic boobs trembled on each side of Christina's body as she was wracked by pleasure.
Lewd licks and slurps moistened the air as Zoe's pageboy haircut plunged deep into the narthex of Christina's thighs. She latched onto her mistress's clitoris and chewed and licked at the huge, engorged organ, sucking and schlicking and face-fucking her crotch.
Christina began lewdly humping her personal assistant's face. She tilted her head back, grunting like a beast.
"Ohhh....oooooooh.....OOOOH!"
David had more pressing matters to deal with. Literally.
Both of Christina's dirty, smelly feet were in his face, the sour-tasting soles grinding all over his nose and mouth. As her horny cunt pulsed with pleasure, he experienced every shudder of excitement through the contractions in her foot muscles. The lumbricales, the flexor hallucis brevi, the plantar interossei, the quadratus plantae, the abductor hallucis. Every fast-twitch reflex inscribed itself into his cold, clammy face. It was as if her feet were seismographs, documenting the first ominous tremors before Mount Christina totally exploded.
"AHHH! OHHHH YES! LIKE THAT! HARDER HARDER HAAAAAAAHHH-DER!"
Under her PA's oral attack, Christina tossed back her head. Her mouth opened wide in a single elongated vowel of pleasure.
The musky toes of her left foot pushed up into David's nose. He gagged as they invaded his nostrils, squirming like maggots. They reeked! The dirty curve of her right medial longitudal arch fitted against his face perfectly, as though his face was the insole of a shoe designed by God for Christina to wear.
He felt the hard smack of her bare foot as she pummeled his face repeatedly.
In brief glimpses around her wrinkled soles, he saw Zoe slobbering Christina's cunt, plunging her tongue through her mistress's engorged labia. And beyond Zoe, he saw Christina gasping and gurgling in pleasure, her vast chest heaving lewdly. Her breathing became ragged. Her thighs and boobs and belly jiggled.
"I...uh...uh...uh...uh....OH MY GOD I'M..."
Her eyes rolled back. Her hips began to quake. David felt every muscle in her feet come alive and start spasming against his face.
Liftoff was here.
...and now
both of her big toes were stuffed up his nose, forcing him to breathe through his mouth!
"Zoe," she gasped. "I'm...uh...gonna squirt! Get me a towel! HURRY!"
Her reflexes tripwire-tight, Zoe ripped her face from Christina's pulsating nethers, snatched a white towel that David hadn't even noticed was there, and slammed it into her boss's crotch.
"Fuck,” Christina snarled, closing her eyes and grinding her cunt against it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Her pretty eyes abruptly rolled back in their sockets as she orgasmed.
"Eeeeeeiiiee!!"
SKLLLRRRT! SKLLLRRRT! SKLLLRRRT! SKLLLRRRT! For over thirty seconds Christina bucked her hips, volleying cum into the towel. Her toes came mercifully unplugged from David's nostrils, waving in the air.
"UHH! UHH! UHH!"
Spluuuuuuuuurrrrrrtch! Splooooooooooooooooooooort! As her climax ran down, a braindead expression of euphoria settled over Christina's regnal features. Her eyes crossed, and her tongue lolled out. Wild coral-flushes of color waltzed across her skin.
Zoe pulled the towel away. It was completely soaked in fluid. Zoe hadn't allowed one drop of cum hit the chaise.
Christina panted, and rolled to her side. A final jet of girlcum ribboned down her leg. Zoe moved supernaturally fast, slurping it from her thigh with a quick flash of her tongue. David was impressed, despite his misery.
Whatever Christina pays this girl, she should double it."Did the lounge stay dry?" Christina whispered throatily.
"More or less." Zoe folded the squirt-soaked towel into a plastic bag with distaste. It already had several similarly wet towels inside.
"Good. I make such big messes. Ivan's an old friend of mine, and I would hate to stick him with a dry-cleaning bill."
Then Christina lunged on top of David, eyes wild with sex-heat.
"Put your pants back on and get out of here," she hissed viperously in his ear. "Zoe and I need to fix our makeup. Then we're going back to my mansion—just the three of us. Your father gave me to you for one night, and I'm going to get my money's worth out of your body, one way or another. Even if it kills you."
Nails pinched his shoulder like the screw-clamps of a laboratory retort stand.
"...*especially* if it kills you."
---
The car ride to Christina's mansion wasn't pleasant.
Zoe drove. Christina lorded over them from the front-passenger, projecting a serene dowagerlike
mien over the leather-upholstered interior. David hunched over like a worm in the back seat, stewing in shame and misery.
Silence was unbearable. So he talked.
"Um, so...I'm a senior at Harvard-Westlake High School." David said.
"Thanks for sharing," Zoe said. "We are both so interested in what you do at school."
A ray of light seemed to shine. Maybe they were warming up to him...?
"I'm still picking out a college," David said proudly. "I'd like Caltech. UCLA's my safety. I want to study Computer-Aided Drafting and Design."
"No, seriously, keep talking!" Zoe said. "I wasn't being sarcastic before! This stuff is just
fascinating to hear about!"
He perked up. "Well, basically in Computer-Aided Drafting and Design you use AutoCAD and photogrammetry software to model the interiors of—"
"Do you have Aspergers or are you just retarded?" Zoe said. "Read the goddamn room. *Nobody cares.*"
The smallest intimation of a smile crossed Christina's chalcedony-flawless features.
David sank into the back seat, praying a speeding Mack rig would swerve over the center line and kill him. Zoe watched him through the rear vision mirror, relishing in his humiliation.
He hated Zoe. Hated her even more than he hated her boss.
At least Christina Hendricks had a
reason for bullying him. He'd disappointed her with his limp cock. Zoe Danieloupolis was cruel for no reason at all.
Imagine being a bitch purely out of love for the game.---
An hour later, he got the courage to pipe up again.
"Can I ask a question?"
No answer.
He coughed. "Can I ask a question, Miss Hendricks?"
A red-haired head nodded imperiously from the front seat. "You may."
He gulped, and mustered some courage. "It's about my penis..."
May as well get an honest answer. What dignity do I have left to lose?"Is it...uh...smaller than average?"
Zoe clapped a hand over her mouth in delight. Christina just stared ahead expressionlessly.
"David, I would be lying if I said it wasn't."
Ouch. He hadn't been ready for how much that hurt. "But dick size isn't really important. Women care more about personality, right? ...Right?"
Christina and Zoe shared a glance.
...and then howled with laughter.
"Oh my God!" Zoe slapped the steering wheel. "I bet his
mommy told him that!"
"You're right," Christina said, her boobs jiggling with guffaws. "That's exactly the type of horseshit mothers tell their small-dicked sons. Zoe, show him The Book."
The Book. Strange; you could
hear the capitals when she said it.
Zoe popped open the glove compartment, and handed him an ominous black Moleskine. He opened it, and turned the pages. It was packed from margin to margin with handwritten names and phone numbers, in various colors, in prissy feminine handwriting.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It is a list of acquaintances Miss Hendricks keeps," Zoe said. "To alleviate boredom between and during work. All are boys between the ages of eighteen and twenty."
He paged with awe, and then horror. How many names were in this book? High hundreds? Over a thousand? He couldn't begin to count them. They covered the margins like army ants, sexual playthings for Christina, writ in red and blue and black.
She's humping half the high-school seniors from here to the San Andreas Fault! How is she keeping this quiet?He kept turning and turning, stumbling onto more horrid surprises.
Oh my God, I know some of these kids! Joe Cumia. Isn't he that guido jock who slammed my head in a locker in freshman year? And isn't Sam Portnoy the douche who took my Trapper Keeper in 3rd grade and never gave it back? She's fucking these people? But...they're bullies! They're total assholes!An awful thought made him page ahead to the T section.
No Greg Torrance. He sighed in relief. The idea of his friend having sex with Christina Hendricks was horrible.
He's fucked lots of girls, but I'll always have Christina over him. She gave me a blowjob. Kinda."Do you want to know what the colors mean?" Christina said.
He had a feeling she was about to tell him, and was correct.
"They denote the size of the boy's penis. Red ink means nine inches or more. Quite a rare find."
Indeed. From his perusal, less than twenty names had been written in red.
"Blue ink means eight inches or more."
There had been many dozens of these. Perhaps over a hundred.
"Black ink means seven inches or more. Satisfyingly common."
Christina flipped open a makeup compact, and studied her flawless reflection in the mirror.
"Do you know what color a six inch cock gets?"
Again, he didn't answer.
"Trick question.
There is no color for six inches. Seven is my personal minimum."
Christina reapplied her lipstick. She still hadn't looked at him.
"So yes, even if five inches wasn't below average, it would be below *my average*. You are completely inadequate, to the point where I'm not even sure you *exist*. The back seat of this car may as well be empty. Zoe probably thinks I'm going mad, talking to myself. I've forgotten your name already. What was it again?"
---
They pulled up at Christina Hendricks' mansion soon after.
The House that Mad Men
built David thought, staring in awe at the lawns, the topiary hedges, the understated wood-tone Craftsman-style exterior.
He felt hope stirring as Zoe ushered him across the lawn, and up the steps.
Despite her abuse, Christina had at least brought him to her mansion. Clearly, she intended to have sex with him, however pathetic she judged his penis.
Why else would I be here? he thought as he stepped through the front door. It had been a few hours since his last orgasm. He was sure he could get hard.
He clenched his fists, and made a vow. He wouldn't disappoint her again.
Wouldn't.The interior of her house was ornate and spacious. A Persian throw rug stretched down the main hall. Imitation Rothkos and Mondrians hung from the walls.
In the drawing room, Christina set Zoe to business with an imperious point of her finger.
"Drinks, please. For me, the usual. Do we have something non-alcoholic for Jason? He's underage."
"My name is David," he whispered timidly.
"We have some Kool-Aid in the fridge." Zoe said. "From when the cleaning lady brought her stupid kid over. The one with the retard haircut."
"That will do. Get Jason some Kool-Aid."
Zoe hurried away.
"My name is David." he said, louder.
Christina hit him. Her hand hissed through the air, and struck his skull like a bomb-blast.
"OW!" He reeled, blinking back tears. Christina had a strike like Mr Miyagi. She gripped his shoulders, and shook the world back into focus.
"Understand something, brat," she snarled. "I do not enjoy being corrected, least of all by a pathetic palmhumping
loser who jerks off constantly and can't even use his dick when it matters. So clear out your ears, because I'll only say this once..."
She rattled him back and forth like a doll, shouting at him.
"...If I call you Jason, YOUR NAME IS JASON!"
David nodded, tears running down his face.
"Tell me your name," Christina said.
"David."
She slapped him again. Hard enough to draw blood.
"TELL ME YOUR NAME!."He sobbed. "J...Jason..."
"Good boy!" And just like that, Hydericks transformed back into Jekyllina. She hugged David, smooching him, cooing to him that he was a good boy. His brains began to catch fire and melt in her embrace. All his pain and fear and shame seemed over, in the past.
So long as this woman hugged him, the world did not hurt.
Mommy...---
Zoe returned with drinks soon after.
A single-malt scotch on the rocks for Christina. A Cosmopolitan for herself.
David got a child's sippy cup filled with Kool Aid.
"I ran out of glasses," Zoe said, forcing the infantilizing mug into his hands. It had a screw-on lid and Mickey Mouse ears. "You'll have to drink out of that."
The drawing room table had just two chairs. Christina and Zoe both claimed them. David looked around the room for something he could sit in. All he found was a pink plastic child-sized play seat, that looked like it was for an eight year old.
He pulled the child's seat up to the table, crouched down into it with some difficulty, and sipped reconstituted sugar water through the Mickey Mouse sippy cup.
This is the worst day of my life. But maybe I'll still get to fuck her. She didn't bring me back to her mansion for no reason.The alcohol put Christina in a reflective mood.
"I think I've been too hard on you, Jason. I should be trying to help you. Your behavior is...disturbing. Premature ejaculation. Compulsive masturbation. Attempting to rape me."
He blanched. "I wasn't trying to rape—"
She raised a hand, and he flinched. He was Pavlov's dog at this point.
"It all points to a complete failure of parenting. I have a lot of respect for your father, but he's a busy man. And my understanding is that he divorced your mother some years ago. You've been neglected. You need a strong male role model your own age." She clapped her hands together. "And as luck would have it, I've found one!"
They heard the throaty roar of a two-stroke engine. A Harley-Davidson was pulling up at the mansion.
"Ah, here he is now," Christina said. "Right on schedule."
---
The door swung open, and an unimaginably bad day became even worse.
Greg Torrance walked through the door, motorcycle helmet under one arm. "Hey, what's good!"
David's face fell. He wanted to hide.
This is not happening."Gregory!" Christina stood and curtsied. "The man of the hour!"
Greg looked and saw David sitting in a child's seat, drinking Kool Aid from a Mickey Mouse sippy cup. He laughed.
"Jesus, Gayvid. What's this I hear about you trying to rape Christina Hendricks? That's fucked up, bro. I know you haven't gotten any pussy since you dropped out of one, but c'mon. Raping women ain't the move."
David wanted to scream. "I wasn't trying to rape her! I just...misunderstood!"
"Well," Christina said dulcetly, "clearly you need some education in how a gentleman courts a lady, so that further
misunderstandings in that vein can be avoided. Let's all adjourn to the bedroom."
She began to climb the baroque staircase, swinging her dump-truck sized ass behind her.
"Jason, it's time you learned how to fuck."
---
Christina undressed in front of the canopy bed.
She stripped the jodhpurs off her Rubenesque thighs, and unbuttoned her shirt. Then she unhooked what seemed like several dozen hooks in a massive fleshtone maternity bra. It exploded free with an elastic
whap sound.
Her enormous breasts slopped down her torso, an avalanche of sweaty pink boobmeat. The globes collapsed in heavy masses of soft, spongy fat that completely overwhelmed her upper body in a white waterfall of flesh, the nipples hanging just above her waist.
They were the biggest boobs David had ever seen. As stealthily as he could, he glanced at the tag on the discarded bra.
34N
The number did not seem real. The bra he'd stolen from Abhi Gail Shapira, his substitute teacher, had been a double G, and that had seemed incredibly large. And now a woman
a full quarter of the alphabet further along stood naked in front of him!
Cat-claws of lust pricked David's genitals.
"Miss Hendricks..." he said. "I'm ready."
"Hmm...?" Christina was lifting up her enormously heavy flesh-sacks one at a time, and rubbing deodorant into the underboob crevices. She cocked her head, confused. "...And what might you be ready for, Jason?"
He stammered, lost confidence. "...To fuck you?"
Zoe and Greg brayed laughter. Christina smiled and shook her head.
"That ship has passed. You will never, ever fuck me."
She laid a hand on Greg's muscular shoulder, and nestled her pretty head against his arm.
"You will watch while your friend fucks me."
David's mouth fell open in horror. The lout preened oafishly.
"Zoe made quite a discovery with young Gregory here," Christina said. "He's an exemplary specimen of masculinity. Rugged. Confident. Hung like a plow horse." She tittered, and ran manicured fingers over his crotch. "I want you to observe him while he services me. I think you'll learn a lot. Take off your pants, Gregory."
Greg shucked his jeans and underwear. His cock was already standing at full attention. It jutted out from his hips like the prow of a ship.
Christina jerked it once, milking a glob of pre-cum from the egg-sized glans.
"A real specimen, isn't it? Zoe measured him, and claims he's nine point three inches. Another red name for The Book."
David was stunned into silence. He felt he was melting away into nothing.
"First," Christina said. "I think you should show proper respect to your friend."
She tapped her hand under David's chin, and then pointed at the bobbing erection.
"Kneel before it."
"What the fuck...?" David spluttered.
"You heard me. You are in the presence of a superior alpha male. Kneel to his cock."
Blushing, confused, he got down on his knees before Greg's penis like a worshipper.
"Now kiss the tip of his penis."
David swallowed his gorge, and planted his lips onto the head of the monstrous cock.
They all laughed.
"Well, I was expecting you'd argue or refuse!" Christina said. "Instead, you just did it. You're certainly a team player. Or perhaps there's something you're not telling us?"
Sweat poured from his armpits as Greg's foul-smelling cock filled his vision and nostrils.
"Just so ya know," Greg said to him. "I was at Mrs Shapira's place last night. You know that big-titted math teacher who subbed for your AP class once? She said she needed me over for remedial lessons. Turns out whe wanted to do something else."
David gagged as he tongued Greg's glans. It tasted disgusting.
"She's a freak." Greg smirked. "I fucked three loads into her pussy, then another three into her asshole. My douchebag landlord turned off the water to my dad's apartment again, so I haven't showered since then. Sorry if I taste bad."
"Oh dear!" Christina giggled. "You'd better give that cock a
very thorough tongue-bath before it goes inside any of
my orifices!"
David sucked his friend's disgusting cock, trying not to heave at the taste of Mrs Abhi Gail Shapira's asshole.
The abject humiliation of it all made his cock tingle. A timid bulge poked through his academy pants.
"Look!" Zoe pointed. "This is making his dick hard!"
They all howled at his expense as he slobbered over his friend's dick.
"Damn it, I thought I was roasting you by calling you *Gayvid*," Greg laughed. "It wasn't supposed to actually be true. Now I'll need a new nickname!"
He pulled his lips off Greg's erection. "I'm not gay! I swear!"
"Hey, no judgment here," Greg said. "You can't score with girls, so you're giving guys a spin. Fair enough. Folsom Street Fair always needs more bottoms."
Greg gripped his behemothic penis like a club, and cockslapped David across the face.
whap!"You just sit there, Gayvid. Maybe take notes. You might learn a thing or two."
Christina flushed red in excitement, as her stud for the evening escorted her to bed.
---
All David could do was watch.
Watch his worst nightmares came true, one by one, in an orderly line.
First, Christina slid back onto the mattress, propping her voluptuous body up with pillows.
She spread out her arms imperiously. Her basketball-sized breasts poured into her armpits like twin masses of jelly. Greg mounted her, spreading her legs apart, and then positioning himself at the fork between her legs. His ballsack hung like a bloated speedbag above his horse-sized prick.
Christina shuddered as his hips lunged into hers, spearing his colossal prick into her depths. A loud, lewd moan slid out of her lungs.
Greg went slow, extending her pleasure until it became indistinguishable from torture. It took Greg nine seconds to fully penetrate her—one second per inch—with Christina groaned and bellowed continuously beneath his cock.
"Fuck me, he's biiiiiiig!" she trilled, her shoulders sweating.
Greg gripped her mammoth udders as he bottomed out inside her. They sloshed pendulously back and forth with each sway of her body, overflowing his fingers.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!He fucked his well-muscled hips back and forth, driving his coke-can-thick shaft in and out of her drooling slot.
"AHHHHH! OOHHHHHH!" Christina's mouth twisted and forked in analects of joy. Her flame-red hair trailed behind her on the pillows, like jet exhaust. Her makeup was pouring off her face in rivers.
She swiveled her hips upon his skewering organ, seeking more depth, more stretch, more, more, *more*.
slrrrrp-slrrrrchhhh-skrrrrrrch!Greg mashed his chest into Christina. Her breasts squished out like dough. His huge penis splayed her lips wide apart, stretching her out before his enormous maleness. "Don't stooohh-oooop," she wailed; vowels fluxing and mutating like glass folding under a glazier's flame.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!Greg groped and mauled her overfed breasts, rolling the orbs in his disgusting palms. He was grinning at her sexually-charged moans and grunts. Sounds
he was causing, with each brutal thrust and swing of his hips.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!With the humping gaining intensity, and her orgasm fast-approaching, Christina's face transformed, twisting horribly with insane lust. Eyes bulging, mouth split open wide, tongue out, drooling long strings of saliva onto into her infinite void of cleavage.
"I'M ABOUT TO.....HUHHHHH!"
Christina's entire body jiggled and writhed against his.
SHLURRP! POP! Then Greg pulled his dick out of her cunt, and shoved his ring finger into her sweaty asshole.
Christina flung back her head, screaming.
"FFFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!!!!!" She hollered so loud that everyone in the postal district must have heard it. "GODDDD, I'M CUMMINNNGGGG!"
Her asshole clenched around his finger. A massive shot of orgasmic juices pulsed out of her pussy, spraying across the white counterpane. It was followed by a second, a third, a fourth, and a fifth.
"BUHHH!!!!" Christina yelled, more volleys of cum exploding from her pussy.
After a dozen pulses, she ran down, and sagged against the stacked-up pillows, shuddering with post-orgasmic spasms. The huge canopy bed looked like the site of a Super-Soaker battle royale to the death. Cum puddled and dripped from every surface. Christina was spasming witlessly in aftershocks.
But Greg wasn't finished.
With practiced confidence, he mounted her again. His cock found her slit, and he stabbed, sliding in smoothly and deeply. He dropped his hips, and sank into her overheated genitals, burying the full length of his cock into an abyss of soft warm gooeyness. Christina's limbs quaked as the teenage boy's hairy crotch went
squelch again her navel.
"I LOOOOOVE THIS!!!"
The lewd, sloppy rutting resumed. It went on and on, for what seemed like hours. David soon struggled to breathe. The air was rank with sex-juices. Their fucking was turning it to poison.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!Greg drove and slammed his enormous prick into Christina's slurping channel. Her huge ass bucked up to meet him. Their frantic humping was punctuated by bellows and shrills and throaty, bassy grunts. Messy, liquid plops tore apart the air.
David shrank back from the lewd sex-noises. They crawled through his hearing like drosophilae hatching and buzzing in rotten fruit.
This is the worst. The worst. So why can't I look away? Why can't I leave?Squelching, splurting, slurping, rutting, gurgling, pounding, humping. Curses and oaths and expulsions of overheated breath. The noises on the air wove prison bars around him, locking him inside this awful room, with these awful people.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! Greg's ballsack rose and fell as he drilled his fat cockhead against her cervix. Ejaculatory fluid was spilling from the union of their engorged genitals, churned into a froth by his humping.
"FUCK! Oh god! Make me cum you fucking big-dicked brat! Make me cum make me CUUUUM!"
David hated it, and loved that he hated it, and hated that he loved that he hated it, and loved that he hated that he loved that he hated it, and...
And...oh fucking *God*...!
Christina's mouth flared open in a piercing scream as she was gaped. She orgasmed again. It wasn't a climax, it was an *explosion*. A arc of squirt sprayed out of her pussy, writing shimmering cursive on the air. Droplets glistened like jewels as they splattered over the bedposts.
"OOOOOHHHHH THAT FEELS SO FUCKING...!!!"
Where's Zoe? David looked around, but couldn't see her. She'd slipped away at some point.
"MORE! MORE! FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME!"
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!Their humping bodies made loud, obscene, wet, slurping, slapping music, drowning David's thoughts beneath a sticky-sick glue of splooge and bodily fluids.
They'd changed positions. Greg was now screwing her doggy style. Their hips slammed and crashed together like magnets. Two softball-sized globes of breastflesh jiggled and bounced and swung and smacked.
CLAP! CLAP!With a cocky grin, Greg gripped Christina's waist with one hand. With the other, he lifted up one of her enormous sweaty hooters, wrapped it *around her body*, and plopped it onto her back like a sandbag. Winking at David, he planted a kiss on the breast's massive surface.
David swayed, and tried not to pass out. The nipple on Christina's back was staring at him, like a living eye.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!Another ten minutes flew past. The bedroom walls echoed back the sickening depraved sounds of fucking. Christina's endless moans rose and fell in time with the huge-cocked teen's thrusts. Sweat poured off her thrashing body.
Her ass and thighs wobbled, and her lips slackly hung open as Greg jackhammered her through a
third orgasm.
"CUUUHHHH-MING!"
Her pussy spasmed and squirted. Her heavy tits swung from her chest like pendulums, like great golden bells for a church that was always in service, always connected to the Lord of Lords, the Host of Hosts.
Then Greg bottomed out his disgusting shaft in her twat, and busted.
"UGH! CUMMING! TAKE MY LOAD, YOU FAT-JUGGED SLUT!"
His bloated scrotal sack visibly retracted as it squirted its payload. David watched the massive tube in the center of Greg's cock bulge and flex, over and over. There was a disgusting, earthy ejaculating sound.
BLURT BLURT BLURT BLURT BLURT!Christina's eyes opened wide as massive ropes of teenage sperm blasted into her cunt at firehose volume. As Greg's ultra-virile genetic slop flooded and drowned her remaining eggs, Christina babbled nonsense, pushed to the edge of words and then straight off the side, into whatever dark beyond lay past the side of the tongue.
There are things in heaven and hell that make language burn. This was one of them.
Greg finished sperming her. He grunted piggishly in satisfaction. Then he dug his pipe out of her pussy, with the sound of a post-hole digger being yanked out of six feet of wet mud.
SQUEEELLLLCHHHHHH!His cock tore free. Disgusting volumes of baby batter splattered out onto the bed. Twin sperm-rivers streamed down the quivering fenceposts of her thighs, lubricated by sweat and female squirt, forming puddles on the sheets.
Creampied harder than Laurel and Hardy in a barber-shop, Christina was gasping for air. Her hair was tangled, no more red that the sweat-flushed face beneath it.
But she hadn't forgotten her purpose.
Education.
"And that..." Christina said, sitting up and wiping perspiration from her forehead. "Is how a man fucks a woman. Say 'thank you' to Greg for the demonstration"
"Thank you, Greg," he whimpered, feeling two inches tall.
"Don't mention it, Gayvid."
Christina waved at the door. "You may leave. We will be busy for quite some time. Shut the door after you"
David slunk from the bedroom, hearing the rhythm of sloppy, animalistic sex resume.
---
David descended the stairs, knees wobbly, mind reeling with trauma, feeling a fresh battle-blooded recruit who's just seen his whole platoon shredded to dog-chow in front of him.
Zoe cornered him on the landing, mischief in her eyes.
"Sooo...David."
"Um, yes?"
Hands on her hips, she thrust her big breasts out for inspection. He goggled at her youthful slopes, which were lightly dusted with sparkly mauve glitter.
"She'll be fucking him for most of the night. What do you say we sneak away...and have some fun of our own?"
David couldn't pull his eyes off her soft cleavage.
Some fun on our own? Did that mean what it sounded like?
"Sorry for kinda being a bitch earlier." Zoe's shrug was offhand. "Christina expects it of me. I'm actually not that bad, when you get to know me. And while the cat's away, the mice can play. Would
you like to play, David?"
"I'd...I'd like that a lot, Zoe."
She chewed a hangnail, staring into his eyes. "There's just one catch. You have to promise to do *everything I say*."
David's mind wasn't working right. He tried to calculate the odds that he was blundering into yet another trap, but the prospect of finally having sex—however remote—overwhelmed his math.
Zoe was incredibly hot. And weirdly, she seemed even more formidable than her mistress.
Christina was a berserk, sex-crazed nymphomaniac on a personal holy quest to slam every 2007-issued cock in the state into the hungry arroyo of her cunt. Unless your dick was small, she wasn't a particularly difficult mountain to conquer.
By contrast, he couldn't imagine Zoe having sex with
anyone*, except at her mistress's behest. She seemed like the sort of girl who got her kicks from cockblocking and rejecting men, not screwing them. Zoe was the word *no wrapped in a pale, mallgothy facade. The kind of girl who would repay a diamond necklace and a thousand-dollar dinner with a sigh, an eye-roll, and a dry, unenthusiastic handjob.
And yet...
Why not? I have nothing to lose. I'm owed some good luck, after today."Sure. I'll do whatever you want."
"Follow meeeeeeee..." Zoe singsonged, letting the vowel spin out, crooking a finger in
come hither way.
She sprinted out of the house with a playful bounce of her ass, and David chased.
---
Heart thudding, he followed Zoe outside, onto to the patio.
There, he tried to kiss her. She shoved him away with a cruel laugh..
"I'm a lesbian, you pathetic loser. And even if I wasn't, your pindick would turn me into one."
She shoved a piece of paper into his face. There was a list written on it.
"Our groundskeeper is sick. There's a
lot of yard work that needs doing. Get started now if you want to be finished by sundown. Otherwise you'll have to come back tomorrow."
With a sinking heart, he stared at the list.
-
wash the windows-
water the plants-
trim the hedges-
mow the lawns-
repaint the decking"Chores?" he asked blankly. "You want me to do *chores*?"
"You'll find tools in the shed. Make yourself a PB&J if you get hungry. Also, wash the dress she made me kneel in. I'm renting it, and I lose my two hundred dollar deposit if I return it dirty. Bye, now!"
She merrily flounced away.
---
Under the roasting Californian sun, David slaved the entire afternoon away.
He tried to ignore the loud-sex noises thrumming through the walls like perspiration. Tried, but didn't
quite succeed.
He set to work washing windows. A woman began screaming upstairs, causing his skin to ripple into gooseflesh. She shrieked like Marion Crane in *Psycho*. The wailing vocalizations went on endlessly—some loud and sustained, others short and grunted out, like Morse code. Then the screams stopped.
I guess they finished?He washed the six front-facing windows and started working on the sides. Before he was even half done, fresh wails split the air. He heard sobs and gasps and crying. A syllabary of the language of lust, decanted from the tongue of a hyper-verbal linguist. Hollered vociferations split the air at full volume, with silence on its heels.
Okay, now
they finished.The rear of the house had just four windows. As he soaped, washed, and then squeegee'd them clean, more female shrieks blasted out like klaxons. He cringed. The screams were so loud that he wondered that the glass didn't shatter.
The screams stopped. This time David wasn't fooled.
They haven't finished.He watered the bougainvilleas and the emerald-lustre viburnums, as Christina bellowed and grunted through orgasm number seven (possibly doing some watering of her own). She was
so loud when she fucked. Why didn't the neighbors call the cops? *They're used to it by now*, he guessed.
Number eight shook the entire house as he pruned back the topiaries.
Number nine hit soon after.
Using secatures, he snipped away petioles and axillaries that seemed brown or affected by rot, trying to blot out the gurgling squeals that stopped and started, stopped and started. Christina's roars and bellows sounded literally inhuman at this point.
As he edged the lawn, he heard orgasm number ten, squalled at cat-in-heat tones above the sound of the whippersnipper. Or was it the eleventh? He was losing count.
This is stupio. She's not a woman, she's an M-16 on full auto.Mowing the lawn took him nearly two hours. At least the roar of the mower spared him the roar of Christina cumming her brains out upstairs.
Once, he drove the ride-on mower past the house. Through shiny, newly-washed panes of perspex, he saw Greg and Christina's thrashing bodies in silhouette. They'd taken their fuckfest to the downstairs living room.
He saw his friend slamming the 49 year old actress in a doggystyle position, fucking her up the ass. Greg's bucking hips hammered between her enormous, jiggly buttocks with devastating, remorseless drive.
Christina's colossal pendulous boobs slopped back and forth, the nipples hanging nearly two full feet from her chest. Each impact shook all the fat on her chubby body, and made her tits oscillate. Her mouth hung open, like a thirsty dog's, as her shitter was reamed out by a nine inch cock.
He tried not to look at the duo as they fucked in full view of him.
Again, tried.
Lastly, he painted the upstairs decking.
Through the fogged-up window, he saw that Greg now had Christina on her back in the master bedroom. He was straddling her chubby midsection, and humping her immense tits. They sloshed and wobbled back and forth inside his grip, immense watermelons that swallowed his huge prick completely.
Through the wall, he heard Greg's thighs slapping against the quivering bottoms of her giant tits.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!This was the last straw.
David stood against the wall, unzipped his pants, and stroked feverishly with his hand. He watched as Christina's heavy boobs flew up into her face, over and over. Almost burying her face in a slamming wall of flesh each time.
A vein twitched in his neck, and his penis pulsed hotly in his fist. Three ropes of cum spat against the brick veneer, and then his moist dick collapsed.
---
With the sun setting, David staggered back inside Christina Hendricks' mansion.
He was physically exhausted; emotionally drained. His back ached. The muscles in his forearms burned. His mind was a terrarium of horrors both real and imagined.
He slumped against a wall to catch his breath, and felt rhythmic vibrations surging through the plaster. Like a heart, going beat-beat-beat. He wondered what was causing it.
...just as a raw, obscene, bass-heavy chorus of grunts and moans erupted from the master bedroom.
"FFFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!!!!! GODDDD, NOOOO! UGHHHHH! I CAN'T....OOOOHH!!!"
Upstairs, a woman was cumming, getting murdered, giving birth, or all of the above.
He hunted for Zoe, and found her lying on a couch, shoes kicked off, reading a
Cosmopolitan. He saw the front cover.
LYING TO MEN FOR MONEY? MEET THE WOMEN WHO DO IT...AND LEARN THEIR SECRETS!"I finished the chores," he gasped.
"M'kay." Zoe Danieloupolis sounded bored. "You can leave whenever, I guess."
"Um... so are you driving me back to the city?" he asked.
"Nope," Zoe said. "I have to stay here until she's fucked your cognitively subnormal friend into a coma. They'll be at it all night. She has pills and injections to keep boys hard. Whatever he thinks his sexual limit is, Christina's gonna take him past it."
David's shoulders sagged. "Can't you at least drive me to..."
"Um,
hello*?" Zoe turned her head, so he could see the bruise that had been slapped into her face earlier. "I can't leave! If Christina needs me for something and I'm not there, I'm in shit *mondo deep*! I know you're some spoiled kid who has daddy pay for everything, but some of us *work for a living, David! She's a good boss, but she has a bit of a temper. You got off easy. You haven't seen her when she's
really angry."
David was close to despair. He hadn't brought his phone or any money.
"So how am I getting home?"
"Dunno." Zoe yawned and turned a page.
Another of Christina's orgasms shook the walls.
---
It took David ten hours to ride his thumb back to his father's West Hollywood penthouse.
He knocked on the door at seven am—exhausted, dirty, sleep-deprived, bruised and battered.
"Welcome back, kiddo!" Ivan Schneider beamed with pride over his morning coffee. "Damn! Christina really gave you the business! Heckuva woman, ain't she?"
"Yeah dad..." David had a thousand-yard stare. "She sure is..."
"We were roommates in Noo Yawk. Ninety-four? Ninety-five? She was a model. I was an assistant casting director. We were all over each other back then. I wouldn't say no to another crack at her today, but I'm too old." He shook his head wistfully. "She always did like 'em young, and more power to her!"
Ivan clucked with pride, delighted that his awkward, virginal son had finally become a man. And it couldn't have happened in the tutelage of a finer woman!
Again, he read the thank-you text Christina had sent him in the early hours.
---
Dearest Ivan,It was so nice to reconnect with you at the TeraKnyfe shoot yesterday! You are aging like fine wine.I was enchanted by your son. Diligent. Helpful. Careful. Attentive and good with his hands. I made many demands of him yesterday: duties which he performed with nary a word of complaint. He will make a fine homemaker.I view my role around young men as largely one of pedagogy and mentorship. The difference between a boy and a man is subtle but profound—and if it's my body that helps them navigate the gulf, so be it. Many eighteen year olds are adrift and uncertain. They feel adulthood's winds pulling them toward manhood—yet they still have the mentality and habits of a child, holding them back like an anchor. Who are they? They don't know...until they suddenly do.A child cannot choose to be a man. He simply becomes one. Either that, or he stays a child forever. I'm glad I could help young David understand the difference.Yesterday, his status in the world was undecided. Today, he exactly knows his place.Calumniously yours,~Christina xoxo 
Topic: Christina Hendricks Needs an 18 Year Old Boy (Read 10049 times)