Kate Upton Gives Unenthusiastic Titfucks

[HER_ABHORRED_SHEARS]

Kate Upton Gives Unenthusiastic Titfucks

(M/F, MM/F, titfuck, oral, anal, rimming, armpit sex)

Warning: "Sydney Sweeney Gives Unenthusiastic Titfucks" was merely somewhat depraved. This story probably reaches "crime against humanity" status in several countries. It's a bit long, and could use a haircut, but others seem to enjoy it.

And I'm proud of "laid more pipe than a Windows 98 screensaver", even though it probably makes no sense to anyone anymore.

Note that this series is intended to be satirical, stupid and humorous—not a serious portrayal of anyone.

-- Juliette de Lorsange



Kate Upton Gives Unenthiastic Titfucks

Paparazzi swirled around Kate on the hospital steps like iron filings drawn to a magnet. She transcended hot. She was a fireball—a sex bomb no bunker could withstand.

She smiled. Struck a hipshot pose. Angled her hot, lethally fuckable body into the drenching light of the flashbulbs. Cameras loved her, though not as much as the men behind them. Kate Upton was the American Dream wrought in flesh. Alluring. Insidious. Totally unattainable.

Gaze upon this face, her smile said. See what you'll never have.

She waved and broke hearts; giggled and stomped those hearts into atoms. It was what she did, automatically and instinctively. Photographers took dozens of photos, then dozens more for illicit personal collections, to be masturbated over in private. They drooled over her playful, all-American features—achingly blonde hair, body decked out in a white blouse and jeans, an exhuberantly feminine yet compellingly boyish figure.

The front of Kate's blouse ballooned out grotesquely, distorted by a pair of disgustingly huge breasts. Kate had always possessed big, heavy tits. Now that she was aging out of girl-next-door and into sexually-overavailable hausfrau, they were monsters: titanic fleshglobes that stretched her blouse to bursting point and threatened to break straps on her bra's 28HH cups. As men stared in awe at Kate Upton's economy-sized fucktanks, perspective seemed to yaw and twist through the camera viewfinders, as though her huge tits were a quantum singularity, bending the weft of reality.

She would not have lasted long in the middle ages, one photog thought, his erection thumping miserably inside his slacks. They'd have burned her as a witch.

A microphone was thrust into her face. "What brings you to the hospital today, Kate?"

"Charity work!" She beamed.

"Will you name the charity?"

And just for a second, Kate's smile shrank...

...then re-ignited to its full 200 watts.

"It's...confidential. But they're a wonderful organisation, whose mission I truly and genuinely support. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

* * *

Kate closed the door behind her, shutting out the cameras. Alone, she let the mask drop.

The smile vanished. Her eyes gained a thousand-yard stare. A drop of anxious sweat charted a curving, wandering path through the black hole depths of her cleavage.

She was broke. Stone-broke. And this was her last chance to save herself.

"I'm ready," she said tonelessly to the man who'd just appeared at her side.

"Brill!" his odious smirk exposed gaps in his dentition. "As representative for the Touch of Love initiative, I speak for us all when I say we're very glad to work with you, Kate..."

"It's not mutual." The words were tipped with hoarfrost. "I'm doing this for money, and I'd be grateful if this didn't take long. Where are the men?"

"Ward D." He gestured at the sprawling labyrinth of the hospital. "Once you've...satisfied them, come back to me."

"And then I get paid?"

"Then you get paid."

* * *

Two weeks ago, she'd fucked up bad in Malibu.

As was her style, she'd picked up a stranger at a baccarat table and pole-vaulted on his dick all weekend. While they were spooning in bed, waiting for him to get hard for the next round, he'd posed an innocent question.

"Ever heard of NFTs?"

She hadn't, so he'd blitzed her with a sales pitch, buzzword upon buzzword, blockchains and distributed payment platforms and Merkel hash-trees and Byzantine fault tolerance. NFTs were the future. The frontier.

It hadn't mattered that it sounded like a bullshit scam. He'd closed the deal with his dick.

Kate had trouble restraining herself around cock at the best of times, and this guy fucked. He'd laid more pipe into her than a Windows 98 screensaver that weekend, and she was gagging for more.

Straddling her, he'd obscenely splayed her legs, and laid the tip of his penis against her drooling, hungry gash. Her pussy lips had gaped like an eye opening...but he hadn't put it inside.

...not until she agreed to buy an NFT in his collection, the Tedious Chimp Canoe Gang.

The next few hours had been a blur. While humping her into a puddle of squirt, he'd walked her through the process on her phone. She'd emptied out the bank account she shared with her husband—Houston Astros pitcher Justin Verlander—and liquidated the cash into untraceable Ethereum.

Just once, he'd allowed her a glance at the artwork she was buying: a pixel-art monkey shoving a banana up its nose. It was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen—including the time she'd had to give Sports Illustrated's vice president a rimjob in exchange for a cover issue—but her toyboy-cum-art dealer had insisted that NFTs were a sage financial investment.

"The Tedious Chimp Canoe Gang is going global," he'd said, power-bombing his hips into hers. Her mouth hung slackly open in orgiastic bliss, drooling onto a pillow. "This is the ground floor, Kate. The grand-slam. We're shifting the paradigm."

And so, fuck-drunk and cock-blind from nine orgasms and counting, Kate had tapped the final button.

Five million dollars, gone.

Justin was away on an MLB promotional tour. He still hadn't discovered the money missing from their joint account.

* * *

Days had passed. Her unease had grown.

Her marriage to Justin was already in jeopardy thanks to her near-constant cheating: if he discovered she'd stolen his money to buy a picture of an ape, it would definitely be over.

NFT Bro hadn't given her a contract or invoice for the token's sale—according to him, cryptocurrencies made all of that irrelevant. She didn't even know his name.

Twice, she'd phoned him for reassurance. "Kate, relax," his unctious used-car-salesman drawl did not put her at ease. "It's all under control. You don't even have to think about it."

"This was a mistake," she pleaded. "I need that money returned right now. I'm so screwed if my husband finds out..."

"I'll sell out your position tomorrow. Maybe the day after. I'm timing the market."

When she'd called a third time, he'd disconnected his number.

As the phone rang into oblivion, she'd felt a dark cloud of panic boil across her. The kind of genuine panic that only non-famous people are supposed to feel. When stories hit the internet of a massive pump-and-dump fintech scam involving digital art—one that had apparently snared up several unnamed celebrities—she realized she was screwed. All of her money—and more importantly, Justin's money—was gone.

And then Touch of Love had stepped in.

She still didn't know how they'd discovered her financial situation. They were publically funded and awash with cash. What they didn't have was talent. They were looking for a famous, and—bluntly—attractive female public figure to represent them. They were willing to cover her losses from the Tedious Chimp Canoe Gang fiasco, provided she did some work for them at a hospital.

Kate had been a model since the age of sixteen. She'd been around that particular mulberry bush once or twice.

When an agency hires you for work, and provides no specifics, shave your pussy. It's getting gaped wider than the Large Hadron Collider.

* * *

The hospital was a vinyl and linoleum maze that swallowed Kate like an apéritif. She wandered lost through its halls for a long time before she found Ward D—or thought she'd found it, at least. The paint on the sign was chipped.

She tugged open the ward's sliding door. In the reception room beyond were seven men, sitting in plastic chairs. Their eyes flicked in the direction of the door, and the buxom model beyond it. Many were visibly injured and bandaged. One had his arm in a cast. They ranged in age from teenaged to middle aged. But whether young or old, hurt or healthy, males are males—as she walked across the doorway, she spiritually felt a gallon of blood surge into every penis in the room.

They leered brazenly at her busty figure as she stood before them. Whispers passed back and forth.

"Yo, that's Kate Upton."

"No way, I used to beat off to her."

"I heard she died."

"Man, they're even bigger in real life."

One man actually wolf-whistled, like a character in a Tex Avery cartoon. Ugh, Kate thought, wishing she'd brought a jacket.

"Alright," she said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "You obviously know my name. Am I at the right place?"

"I'd say you are, babe," the speaker waggled his tongue between forked fingers.

She had no time to fuck around with these creeps. "Are you the men Touch of Love wants me to help? Yes or no."

"Touch of Love?" A lanky teenager with a heavily-signed fiberglass cast around one wrist asked. "Who are they?"

Haven't these knuckleheads even been briefed? She rolled her eyes, sighed, and whipped out the pamphlet they'd given her. "It's a public health initiative that seeks to solve the issue of sexual frustration of hospitalized men. If you are unable to masturbate, they send a celebrity to do it for you. And today," she shrugged in reflexive faux-modestly, "I'm that celebrity."

The kid's eyes lit up. "So you jerk us off?"

"Technically," Kate said icily. "I'm supposed to use my breasts."

Their stares dropped ten inches, from her face to her chest. She blushed red. Her overloaded blouse was a light sneeze away from bursting, and they could see oceans of soft pale cleavage bulging obscenely from her bra cups through gaps between buttons. "So...this is Ward D, right?"

Bulges tenting their jeans, they glanced at each other for affirmation.

"Yeah, this is Ward D. Isn't it, boys?"

"Sure is."

"Absolutely."

Kate unbuttoned her blouse, burning with shame, disgust, and anger. Freefall in the NASA Vomit Comet hadn't been as stomach-turning as this. One by one, her fingers popped buttons out of their loops on her blouse. Each pop widened the white cleavage chasm by another two inches. They watched with fascination as she undid the last button, then pulled the garment over her head.

The black 28HH balconette had fit her chest six months ago. Now, she'd outgrown it by at least two sizes. Her huge breasts bulged out of the cups like bowling balls, excess titmeat flooding and gushing out of the sides, bottoms, and tops.

She arched her chest forward, reached behind her back, and unclasped the balconette. Hook after hook yielded with pops and whispers. Then the straps burst free, slinging around her torso as the bra exploded from her body, leaving her topless.

The men leered and hooted like apes when the black bra dropped away, leaving the legendary fap-goddess standing bare-chested in front of them. Blushing, Kate used her arm to clasp her bare tits against her chest. Her boobs spilled around her skinny forearm like dough, absurdly massive and heavy.

Then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to three. She lifted her arm, releasing her trapped boobs. They flopped heavily against her lower stomach, swinging like pendulums.

SLAP! SLAP!

The men let out a raucous cheer. For an incongruous second, Kate enjoyed the sexual energy washing over her. Male approval is a hell of a drug. Then she noticed that several of them already had their hands in their pants, and were jerking off. So much for being unable to masturbate, she thought miserably, the chilled air making her nipples hard.

No backing out. She was in too deep.

Soon these men would also be in too deep, in a less poetic sense.

"So, are we...doing this?" she asked, her naked chest rippling into gooseflesh. "I don't have all day. Who do I titfuck first?"

They settled the issue by rolling dice on their phones' betting apps. Who says romance is dead? Kate thought as the winner swaggered forward to claim his prize.

* * *



Thunk! The door to a private room slammed shut behind the two of them.

Kate twisted her blonde hair up in a knot behind her head. Today would be endless enough without a two-hour sperm-removal shower.

Her first partner sat on the bed—a greasy, unshaven man of indeterminate years with a castor shoulder fixation and a rat's nose. Everything about him screamed mechanic. Engine oil seemed to bleed out of every pore of his skin.

She kneeled submissively before him, folding her pretty legs on the cold tiled floor.  She spread his knees, wedged herself before his obscenely bulging crotch, and let her tits hang straight down. The man's eyes tracked the huge, soft globes as they dangled between his forked legs. He made a loud mooing noise.

Ugh, what a charmer.

"You're a sexy piece of trim," he sneered, tracing a hand down the alabaster curve of her face. "You know that?"

"Whatever." Kate yanked off his belt, and pulled his jeans and boxers around his ankles. A turgid and disgusting cock bounced out, so heavy that it didn't jut out straight, but lolled, curved by gravity.

Kate found a hand-pump, squirted a generous palmful of lotion onto her chest, and rubbed it over her tits until they gleamed. Then she lifted her prodigous jugs, and dumped the lubed-up mass of breastflesh into his lap.

SMACKPLOP!!!

Her huge udders flooded his lap, ripples shuddering through them. Her perfect boobs jolted to a stop, slowly pouring into place around his dirty, unwashed penis, flowing like a Newtonian physics simulation.

As Kate went to work, his massive shaft lurched, spraying hot droplets of pre across her slopes.

Schlick schluck schlorrck.

"Oooohhhh yeah..." His lip curled arrogantly as the flagship girl of Sports Illustrated titfucked him. Here was a man who thought he was owed the best thing in the world, and somehow, the world had given it to him.

His dick submerged in an ocean of Kate Upton's warm, sweaty tit flesh. It swelled hugely inside her cleavage; becoming so hard she could feel his heartbeat resonating within her breasts. Clenching her teeth, Kate shimmied her boobs back and forth, seeking a position that allowed her to exert maximum stimulation on his shaft. SQUELCH! SQUELCH! SQUELCH! Up. Down. Up. Down. His distended prick drooled into her cleavage.

I'm the biggest idiot, she thought, slamming him off with her enormous rack. I spent five million dollars on a picture of a monkey. That's the worst part of this. It wasn't even a smart scam.

"Ooooh yeah...you fucking slag..." the mechanic said, closing his eyes as she plunged her boobs deep into his lap like slippery jelly. At their lowest point, they swallowed his entire shaft and threatened to engulf his balls. He started matching her pumps, thrusting upward with his ass, keeping pace. He was surprisingly healthy for an injured man.

Please cum. I hate life itself. Please cum. Kate's knees hurt. The weight of her braless breasts strained her back. The man's cock was squirming and writhing inside her tightly-packed tits, like a hamster being suffocated.

The man tilted back his head, and groaned. He looked down at the busty blonde between his legs, and began degrading her.

"You're a real fucking slut. You know that, Kate? A total whore."

Pick a lane, asshole. A whore charges money. A slut gives it away. I can't be both at once. She squeeze-pumped her mountainous breasts around him, stroking his dick, praying he'd ejaculate. His cock smelled vile. As it bulged from her cleavage on each downstroke, the oozing slit seemed to grin repulsively at her, as though it was relishing in her debasement too. The fact that someone like her—social media royalty, bred for the high life—was reduced to this was beyond offensive.

At least Cinderella's stepmom didn't have a dick and balls... His cock dribbled massive amounts of precum. It poured from the tip and cascaded down the shaft, a colorless liquid that pooled aqueously in the chasm of Kate's breasts, squelching as her breasts wobbled. ...and if she did, she probably washed them once in a while.

Kate's fists clenched her slippery tits vice-tight. Pale flesh billowed out between the gaps of her fingers. The man's thigh muscles were tensing up: she felt it through the expansive globes of her boobs. He was close to cumming. Closer. Closer still. His breathing roughened. His half-humping motions sped up. She gave his cock three powerful squeezes, then he roared.

"Fucking shooting, you big-titted cunt!"

His massive load squirted up through his shaft.

"Busting all over your huge fucking jugs. UGH...CUMMING!"

Boiling hot sperm jetted out between her tits, spraying into her chin and neckline, one shot flying into her hair, more gunk pooling in her collarbones. She continued to milk cum from his balls as his revolting dick slid out of her divine breasts, still spouting out ridiculous amounts of semen.

He hollered and yelled obnoxiously, his cock bucking and spasming, hosing sperm over the floor and the bed and her chest and her face. "Shooting! Ugh, take that, you fat-jugged slutwhore! OOF! Ugh. How does it feel to get a pearl necklace from someone who makes forty large a year, you rich spoiled bitch?"

I'm one cock closer to being done. That's how I feel. She made eye contact with the man, which was a mistake. A drop of cum slid from her forehead into her open eye. "OW!"

He stood up, gripped his softening dick like a club, and cockslapped her in the face. SMACK! A final wad of jizz splattered over her beautiful blonde face.

"Tell your husband his pitching arm sucks. He lost me six hundred bucks in that strikeout against the Twins. Hopefully they bench him."

Then he leaned forward, and spat in her face.

"Fuck you, whore."

* * *

The next man was disgustingly fat. His immense belly spilled into his lap like a half-deflated beachball. He plopped down in the same spot as the last man—heedless of the sweat stain he was sitting in—and pulled down his pants. A large engorged penis sprang out.

Kate sighed. She scooped up a fleshy orb in each hand, and placed them around his dick, sandwiching his smegma-crusted cockmeat between her pure milk-white tits. She bent her head back and closed her eyes. The huge slippery cock jumped and jerked inside her rack, as if alive.

"So, I gotta question..." the guy's smirk was esconced inside countless double-chins.

"What?" Kate wrinkled up her cute button nose at the rank stench of his crotch.

"I know about Kate Upton, I know about Kate Middleton..."

She began slamming her messy, hefty tits on his shaft. The pink head speared out between her jugs repeatedly.

"...but where's Kate Downton?" The fat, sweaty man guffawed as Kate juggled and bounced her enormous breasts around his huge, fetid cock.

Real clever. Think of that one on your own? Kate gritted her pearlescent-white teeth as she juggled and bounced her enormous breasts around his cock, twisting her mouth in a corpselike smile, and locked her words behind it. Never let men know what you really think. Never ever ever. First and last rule of modeling.

His penis throbbed inside the slick, malleable breastflesh. Pre-cum bubbled and squelched into her cleavage.

SPLORCH SPLORCH SPLORCH!!

She opened her eyes, and regretted it. She saw a pubic hair plastered wetly to the convulsing, heaving surface of her left boob, like a mountaineer traversing an enormous slope.

If you ever find Kate Downton, ask if she needs a roommate. Right now, fame isn't worth it.

Kate bounced her enormous chest on his lap like she was dribbling basketballs, slamming her tits over his dick. The man whined and bellowed like a manatee.

And then her phone rang on the floor. She glanced across to see who was calling.

Justin V.

Her veins flash-froze to ice. Oh no.

"Sorry!" she yelped, reaching across to her phone. "I have to take this call!" Quick as a snake's strike, she answered the phone before he could protest.

"Hey, baby!" Kate used her elbow to hold her right tit in place, pinning the dick inside.

SKLCH! SKLCH! SKLCH!

"Yo, hot stuff!" Justin said affably. "What's going on?"

"Um...not much!" Splorkk, splorgg, splorch, SPLORRCH! Kate wedged the phone into the crook of her shoulder and repositioned her breasts with her hands. "I'm at...er...a photoshoot right now!"

"OOOHHH FUCK YEAH!!!" The man on the bed groaned loudly as his cock ploughed her milkers. She glared furiously at him.

"Damn, I just heard a man make a noise." Justin's voice became humorously suspicious. Or suspiciously humorous. "Must be a pretty intense photoshoot."

The blonde struggled to control the dick sawing between her tits. "You heard a monkey." She grimaced as the pulsating shaft sprayed a jet of pre-cum between her tits. SPLORCH!!! "They're making me pose with animals."

"Ha. Another day, another dollar, right babe? Hey, look, there's something I gotta tell you..."

The phone was starting to slide down the sweaty skin of her shoulder, taking Justin's voice on a ski-ride down into her cock-filled cleavage. With her hands occupied, she pinned it back in place with her jaw.

"...Justin, this isn't such a good time."

"I'll be quick. I know that things...well...haven't been great between us lately. I don't blame you for having an affair. Or two affairs..."

Justin had walked in on his wife having sex with two of his fellow Mets in an Atlantic City hotel suite. Just as well he'd been traded to the Astros soon after; he'd never learned about the other seven.

"...It's kinda my fault. I wasn't around like I should have been. You're an adult woman. You have...physical needs. I wasn't there to satisfy those needs. But believe me, babe, that's all about to change."

The obese man's dick thrust and jackhammered through her chest, making disgusting squishing noises. The cockhead stabbed her in the chin over and over.

"Justin, this really, really really isn't a good time!" Kate pleaded, a bead of anxious sweat rolling down her face.

"Well, I'll just tell you: I bought us a yacht!" Justin sounded excited.

"You bought us a what?" She clapped her boobs around the dick with her elbows. Everything was too slippery. She could stop the phone sliding from her ear, and stop the dick sliding out of her rack...but she couldn't quite do both at the same time.

"It's a 48 foot Leopard Seaway catamaran. Costs three million dollars. It's got a saloon, and a forward cockpit, and...oh my fucking God, you're gonna cream when you see it, babe."

A blast of utter horror overwhelmed Kate.

Three million dollars.

"Justin...don't buy it!"

"But baby, I already signed the paperwork..."

"Cancel it!" Her face twisted in anguish. "A yacht's, um, such a big purchase! I'm not sure we can afford it!"

"There should be enough money in the account. I forgot our online banking password, but I'm pretty sure there's like five million dollars there."

"FUUUCK!" The fat man slammed his hips hard into her rack. Kate wasn't ready for the sudden jolt, which sent her phone tumbling from her ear. She scrabbled blindly for it. Her fingers were so slippery with lube and sperm that it kept squeaking out of her fingers, skidding on the floor like a bar of soap.

She finally caught the phone, tucked it back into place, and continuing the titfuck. I'm a woman. I can multitask all day she thought grimly, kneading her pillowy orbs with both hands. The fat orbs emitted lurid wet plops and smacks as they devoured his cock.

Justin was still talking like nothing had happened. "...Then the broker starts telling me about deposits and payment plans, and I'm like 'fuck that action! I'm rich! I'm buying this bad boy with cash!' I'm doing it for you, babe! For us! Here's to a new beginning!"

Kate couldn't form a reply. Her hands went numb. She lost her grip on her rapidly-pumping boobs, and the man's dick sprung free, slinging pre-cum across the floor.

"GET MY DICK BACK IN THERE!" the man yelled.

"Kate, what was that?" All humor vanished from Justin's voice.

"Um, that was my photographer!" Frantically, Kate clubbed her boobs back into place, and shot the fat man a furious glance." He said 'get that chick back in there!' I tripped and fell out of the frame."

"Oh, okay." Justin sounded more than faintly suspicious. "I thought I heard...something else."

"Honey, I love you, but please cancel the purchase! Let's talk about this first!"

Kate balanced her breasts on the obese man's hairy thighs, where they wobbled like waterballoons. His cock jerked frantically inside them, emitting a moist sloshing and squishing sound. SQUELCH! SPLORRCH! SCHLUUCK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SPLORCH SPLORCH SPLORCH!

"AGGHHHHHHH!" a vein flared in the man's fat face. He writhed in ecstasy, plowing her milkers. "OOOOOHHHH! GONNA....OOOH!"

Justin spoke over the sounds of his orgasmic bellows. "Seriously, what the fuck is going on? All I hear is a man groaning and yelling. It sounds like you're..."

"I told you, it's a monkey!" Kate yelled, on the verge of tears. Shut up! she mouthed at the man.

"I'M CUMMING, KATE!" the man yelled, almost loud enough to blow out her eardrums. "CUMMING IN YOUR FUCKING TITS!"

He orgasmed in deafening fashion. His balls drew up tightly against her underboobs, and his dick vibrated like a pager.

His cock exploded. Massive squirts fired out and slapped against her cheekbones, collarbones, and forehead.

SPLORCH SPLORCH SPLORCH!!

"...Kate?" Justin now sounded angry.

She couldn't answer. He kept blowing ribbons of sperm into her cleavage, flooding it with slimy, smelly white jism. Thick strands of spunk slammed into her chin, splattering droplets everywhere. Then his cock retreated, shooting additional wads into her pale cleavage.

"Kate, can you hear me?"

"OOOHHH...I'M FUCKING KATE UPTON'S HUGE TITTIES!" the fat man howled to the entire postal district.

"Kate, that's enough!" Justin's voice was sandpaper harsh. "Get on Facetime. I want to see where you are, and what you're doing."

Kate squealed in horrified misery as she was blasted in cum. "One second! The line's breaking up! Ohmygod!"

"Kate, I swear that if you don't—"

The fat man's dick squeezed out a final blob of sperm. As thick as porridge, it plopped heavily onto her iPhone, and the call cut out.

Beep!

"Ya know...," the fat sweaty man spoke conversationally as he tucked his cock back into his kingsized jeans. They might have been discussing the weather. "You should get that Leopard Seaway. I'm a chef on one. Boat's a fuckin' animal.""

Kate, splattered like a modern art masterpiece in hot ball-batter, was too enraged and exhausted to even look at him as he left.

She picked up her phone to explain to Justin—she had no idea how—and found that it wouldn't power on.

He'd literally shorted it out with his cumshot.

* * *



Two men at once were coming for her. Twins, from the look of it. Identical lean builds. Identical shaven heads. They hadn't been able to agree who would fuck her breasts first, and had decided to do it simultaneously.

They lunged on her like wolves, pinning her to the bed, mauling her humungous tits with their hands.

Hands that, incidently, seemed completely uninjured.

What gives? These guys can absolutely masturbate, Kate thought as her two huge globes of flesh bounced and jiggled in their strong, pawing hands. Did they lie to Touch of Love? Does any man anywhere ever tell the truth about...anything?

It was a clusterfuck. They were so desperate to hump her chest that they spent more time fighting over her than actually doing so. Kate just lay on the bed, eyes dead and glassy from her ordeal with the fat man, and let them squabbled.

She hardly cared at this point. She just wanted it to be over.

One straddled her chest, and jammed his shaft between her boobs. He humped her wobbling boobs ten or eleven times...then his brother shoved him aside, and took his place. He leaped on top of her, straddled her chest, gripped her boobs, and buried his pungent shaft in her cleavage.

This went on for a while, with each of them briefly titfucking her and then getting thrown off the bed. Soon, Kate groaned in frustration.

"Look, this is going to take all day at this rate. Can't you guys fuck my armpits or something?"

They shot raised-eyebrow glances at each other, their quarrel forgotten. "Uh, sure. I guess that would work."

Kate sat up, and raised her arms above her head. The two brothers assumed a position on each side of her torso, sliding their shaft against the mighty hemisphere of her breasts. Then she lowered her arms, creating friction against the hard shafts throbbing in her pits.

The first brother humped his cock deep into her left armpit. The second did the same from the right. Her tits wobbled heavily as their cocks sawed away inside her pits, discharging steady rivers of precum.

Kate had a headache after being thrown around like a football for the last five minutes. She closed her eyes, feeling their hard shafts stabbing through her armpits, thinking nice thoughts. Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean.

It didn't work. Thunderclouds of anxiety threatened to eclipse her, no matter where in her emotional landscape she went.

Justin. Touch of love. NFTs. Oh my God, I'm such an idiot.

The blue-bright halogen light above her head glared through her eyelids. She squeezed them shut even tighter, trying to fall into her own body like a child down a well, trying to escape...

Then she heard a series of clicks.  Machine-rapid.

Clickclickclick.

And then again, seconds later.

Clickclickclick. Clickclickclick.

She couldn't quite place the sound. It reminded her of a camera shutter...

Then her eyes flicked open. She saw an iPhone in one of the men's hands.

"Oh fuck no!"

She shoved them both aside violently. Memories of that iPhone hacking scandal were still fresh. It hadn't been Justin's cum over her back in that photo.

"You assholes! You were photographing me! That's illegal!"

"I wasn't!" the man said pathetically, his hard dick jutting toward her face. "I was photographing the lawn outside the window!"

Kate's face tensed in a snarl. "Bull and shit."

"It's a really nice view!" he waved his phone defensively, as if it would exonerate him.

She curled a finger at the phone. "Give me that. I'm going through your photos. If I see myself in them—any part of myself in them—I'm walking out of here now and suing both you and Touch of Love for invasion of my privacy. I have had enough. Do you understand? I have had enough!" She shouted this, misting him with flecks of spittle.

Snatching the phone, she began angrily swiping back through his photoroll.

Window. Window. Window...

Incredibly, he'd been telling the truth! He really had been photographing the view outside the hospital window!

She rolled her eyes so hard she almost triggered a brain bleed. Who the hell does that?

She sighed, flung his phone back at him in disgust, and lifted her armpits. "Okay. Please just goddamn cum."

They resumed their dual armpit-titfuck, humping her chest enthusiastically. Over and over, Kate watched the pair of cocks blast aside her wobbling tits, spearing toward her neck. She began to count the times this happened on each side. In two minutes, the left dick achieved one hundred and forty thrusts, while the right dick only managed a hundred and ten. To be fair, she thought, as the boob-humping tempo increased the one of the left is just a little bit shorter.

They slammed into her gargantuan tits from each side, making them swing and wobble like water balloons. She heard their breath grow rougher with imminent climax. Then, with a deep groan of release, the man on the right ploughed himself balls deep into Kate's fleshy armpit and exploded.

He ejaculated copiously, covering her right breast with white splatters of viscous cum. Kate turned her face away in revulsion as her cheek was hit several times She didn't want to watch his substantial load flow down her cleavage-trench—blobs of thick prostatic fluid travelling inside clear seminal fluid.

The man on the left busted seconds later. He dragged his cock out of its slippery prison, moments before it sprayed cum like a busted fire hydrant. His cock writhed in front of her torso, blowing hot, fast, ropes over her immense pale breasts and disgust-puckered face. He grunted and squirmed, painting her tits like some degenerate Jackson Pollock artwork, finally emptying his balls.

The two men high-fived each other. Kate sat between them, shaking her head, eyes closed. It was hard to project solemn, injured dignity when two men had just used you as a cum-sock, but she tried her damndest.

The brothers swaggered out of the room, returning to the reception area. Their place was taken by yet another man. And once again, Kate sighed, wiped jizz from her boobs with a towel, and prepared to service him...

* * *

Back in the reception room, the brothers were buzzing with adrenaline.

"So, did you get any photos, or nah?" the elder asked.

The younger gave a naughty just-us-boys wink, and flashed his phone like a pocket ace.

"I knew she'd stop looking after the first three!"

Displayed on his camera reel were several excellent candid photographs, showing Kate Upton in a situation you would not see in the pages of Sports Illustrated.

Crisp white bedsheets. Blue halogen light shining over the folds in the counterpane, making them look like an alien moonscape. The effect was alienating and sterile. And spread out on that moonscape lay one of the most famous models to ever strut a runway.

Framed dead-center was Kate Upton—famous, beautiful, and unmistakably—with her eyes closed, her face limned by her two vast breasts, and with two erect cocks jutting out of her armpits.

"No way!" the older brother goggled in the breathless, childlike awe of a child seeing Santa. "Forward them to me now!"

His sibling did exactly this.

They stared at the pictures. Argued about their favorite. Argued which of their dicks was longer. As they did so, they heard a man screaming in orgasm in the next room.

"Can I send these to a friend?" one asked.

"I guess."

"...A few friends?"

"Yeah, just tell them to be careful. We might get in trouble if those pics hit the tabloids."

"Obviously," he said, spamming the photos to his entire friendslist, along with a text.

~GUESS WHO I FUCKED!

* * *

One man left. The next took his place.

Two titfucks to go. Kate thought, wiping sperm from her breasts. The towel was now saturated with five loads of ball batter.

Never in human history had the number two seemed so large. It seemed like the kind of arcane, unfathomable, hyperreal number best tackled with a TI-84 graphing calculator and John Conway.

The penultimate man—skinny, late 30s, balding—sat on the bed. Next to the other overconfident assholes, he seemed chronically shy. When she said "hi," he mumbled something that was unrecognizable as any dialect of English.

She arched her back, wriggled her hips, and dropped to her knees in front of him. In one smooth motion, she lifted up her tits and dropped them into his lap, pinning his dick beneath two huge mountains of boobflesh.

To this...he displayed no response whatsoever.

She pumped her boobs back and forth, lifted them off his dick, then throwing them back down. Her lewd tits engulfed his cock, hot fleshy tit-meat clinging to his schlong like cling-film. SLAP SLAP SLAP! Once more, the room filled with obscene filthy squelches and smacks. The big orbs of boobmeat flowed and sloshed around his cock, growing increasingly wet and shiny as it released pre-ejaculate. As she lifted them up, the man's spitshiny cock straightened, jutting between her tits. The wide-rooted, throbbing cockhead pounded against her chin. SPLORRCH SPLORRCH!

But he still didn't react.

Five minutes became ten. There was no sign of an orgasm. She pumped her boobs up and down methodically, trying to will him across the finish line. Instead, his cock was getting soft.

Kate flapped her hands in irritation. "What's the deal? Everyone wants to fuck my chest. Everyone. And you're going limp?"

"Performance anxiety," the guy said with a timid shrug. He looked like he wanted to disappear inside his ugly business-casual sweater.

As his cock shrank into her boobs like a scared snail, they both heard a door swing open behind them.

"Can we have some fucking privacy?" Kate snapped. "Wait your turn!"

"Kate," the newcomer said calmly. "I'd like to cut a deal with you."

Twisting her pretty neck, Kate saw the final man. The last who would be titfucked. He was a tall, hawk-nosed guy with tattoos. Viewed objectively, he was mildly handsome at best. Next to the subhuman freaks and ogres who'd ejaculated mutant DNA over her throughout that long, neverending day, he seemed as handsome as 1970s Paul Newman.

"Here's the thing." His chin had a diffident jut. "I don't like large breasts. Don't take that as an insult. I get to have a preference."

"What are you? A pedo?" Kate scrunched up her face in high dudgeon. If there was one thing she hated more than men lusting over her chest, it was men not doing that.

"Don't be a bitch. I just prefer a petite figure."

"You can recite the age of consent in all fifty states from memory. Admit it."

He sighed, and held out his hands in a placating gesture.

"I don't want to fuck your tits, Kate. I'd like to...actually fuck you."

"Gimme a fucking break!" she said. "That's not in the contract! It's supposed to be a titfuck!"

But then the man in the doorway unzipped his pants. A gigantic cock—slippery, rubbery, obscenely huge—spilled out like an immense worm. Half-flaccid, it approached nine inches in length.

The sight of his massive shaft activated something in Kate's monkey brain. Her vision tunneled on it.

"Think about it," he argued evenly, like a highly-paid corporate lawyer with his schlong hanging out of his pants. "You'll be done twice as fast if I can fuck your pussy, because you can service both of us at the same time. If anyone asks, I'll lie and say you titfucked me. It's win-win for everyone. Assuming your friend on the bed there has no objections."

"I guess I'm fine with it," the man on the bed shrugged. Something about his face said I'm not, but I'm too much of a coward to start a fight over it. "But what kind of weirdo doesn't like big boobs?"

Kate nibbled a lip, weighing her options. It makes a certain amount of sense. She certainly didn't want to be in this room a picosecond longer than she had to. Also, she couldn't take her eyes off his rapidly hardening penis.

She loved dick, and had sampled them in vast quantities. Hundreds of men had fucked her before she'd married Justin, and hundreds more afterward...and out of that sample, this man's penis was in the top ten. Perhaps top five. The idea of it being inside her...well, it couldn't just stay an idea.

It had to happen.

She'd spent what felt like days on her knees, servicing disgusting, unpleasant men, and getting nothing back. She was owed a screw, after all this. Her entire body felt like a hollow, vacant space, ready to be packed with manmeat. God help me. The same dick-berserk lust that had gotten her into this predicament was taking hold once again.

"Alright, I accept."

She snapped her fingers, flicked her curvy rump back toward him in a doggy style position, and slid a finger down her slit.

"Throw that nine incher into me, big boy."

She felt the heat of his body. His hands gripped her hips.

Then he slapped her ass cheek hard. SLAP! She squealed in delighted anguish as his palm struck her flesh. Again. Then again. Vicious stinging blows rained on her ass, staccato PLAP PLAP PLAPS that left his cheeks a constant, raging ocean of jiggling, rippling flesh. He was a Cuban bongosero, she was his drum. Each strike drove a shuddering whiplash of pleasure right up her spine.

The beating thrilled her. It just made literal what had been subtextual. She was sick of this, sick of these men, sick of this entire day—pleasuring men on their terms, and not on hers, just an infinite loop of pouring herself into the void long after she was hollow. She wanted to cum. She wanted to orgasm like a bitch again and again and again.  Her breathing shivered from heavy to laboured to a dry, aspirated panting.

"FUCK ME NOW!" she yelled, legs quivering like jelly. Hurry up. Hurry up.

He gripped her hips; guided them back against his hips. Her moist slit lay in the path of his tumescent shaft.

With one hand, he gripped her hair.

With the other, he placed his throbbing organ at the entrance to her cunt. The head was the size of a plum. It throbbed, seeking her dripping cock-socket.

Oh god, he's hung like a stallion. Kate quaked and squirmed in excitement. Get that dick inside me yesterday.

"Be ready," he said behind her. "Girls say it's thicker than it looks."

She'd totally forgotten about titfucking the man in front of her, who was now completely flaccid. Instead, brain-rotted lust boiled in her mind. Sparks. Embers that longed to become a fire. Something that had no goal or future except to burn everything to ashes.

Using handfuls of slap-reddened assflesh as handles, he lunged into her, penetrating her with a schlick sound.

The huge-titted blonde squealed at the penetration. Her curvaceous body shook, trembling, as his massive prick filled her like a hand fills a glove.

He gave her no time to adjust. He began savagely slamming her pussy at a brutal pace. The wet slap slap slap of flesh pounding flesh thundered through the room, with his cock as the lightning bolt, sending electricity whiplashing through her core.

"Oh...OH...OH...yes, like that! Harder! HARDER!" Kate spoke around grunts and gasps and loud squelches from her pussy.

In. Out. In Out. Earthquakes of excitement criss-crossed erogenous zones as his hip-thrusts landed with bone-rattling force. The room echoed with obscene sensual noises as she was violated, panting and shuddering and crying out, writhing with molten pleasure.

SPLAT! SPLAT! The man took deep, controlled lunges into Kate's convulsing pussy, his hips swinging and twisting with maddening rhythm. It was a magician's trick, over and over again. Nine inches of thick veiny cock stood exposed and glistening outside Kate's cunt...

...then every one of those inches vanished, shunted deep inside her body.

The huge cock ramrodding her pussy had a devastating effect on Kate. Her knees quivered. Her elbows shook. Sweat boiled on her brow, her back, inside the heaving crack of her ass. She turned her head from side to side. Loud whines left her throat as her clit surged in rampant desire.

"Uhh...ahh...that's it..."

"Er...I'm still here, you know..." the man she was supposed to be titfucking said. He sounded sad, like a child abandoned by mom and dad.

"One moment!" A climax was coming. "Uhhhh..." groans surged like sewer water out from the depths of her throat. "OOOOHHH! Oh God! OH...HOLY SHIT!" She flung her head back. Her thick strawberry blonde hair spilled out of its crudely-tied knot, trailing down her frantically whiplashing neck.

Kate orgasmed hard and messily around the plunging shaft, squirting female ejaculate. She locked her teeth in a rictus; her eyes rolled back; convulsions tore apart her body.

His balls squelched to a halt, as deep as his cock would go. She heard and felt his breath. He sounded delighted; a male doing the thing he was made for.

He was plowing the shit out of Kate Upton. Kate fucking Upton. The woman with cosmetic lines, more magazine covers than you could shake a dick at, and starring roles in Hollywood movies. Yet here she was, naked and hunched over doggystyle, titfucking one man with her massive ribcage-splintering tits while also getting fucked by him. The middle part of a human centipede.

His deathgrip on her haunches tightened, and seemed to communicate a message. I'll never amount to anything, to anyone...and yet here you are, Kate, right on my level.

Debased. Humiliated. One of the peasants. She was royalty who belonged on the runway, and instead she was here, doing this.

Seconds later, he roared and cummed inside her. Spurts of cum slopped and blasted into her guts. He rutted her messily, ejaculating until his balls were drained.

His cock slipped out, rapidly deflating. Her cunt released a river of jizz down both her shaking thighs.

He rested his sperm-dribbling cock against Kate’s ass. He cockslapped her huge fuck-dumper, sending a strand of semen flying up her sweaty back.

"Um...so...like..." the balding man on the bed said timidly, dick still between her tits. "Can you get me off now?"

"Oh, right..." Kate reluctantly resumed titjobbing him—her technique now less fluid that she'd had entire vagina resculpted by a cock that belonged on a small elephant.

The man who'd just fucked her didn't leave. He just stood there, watching proceedings with avid interest.

Kate's huge pendulous knockers rolled over his flaccid cock, stimulating it back to life.

...only for it to go flaccid again. Hmm. This won't work.

As she pondered his shrunken penis, a dawning awareness flashed down on Kate like lightning. She needed to bring out the big guns for this guy. The heavy artillery.

Ugh. If I must...

She rocked back on her heels, making space on the floor.

"Get off your bed, and onto your hands and knees."

Mystified, the impotent man complied. Soon he was down on the tiles, supporting his body on his knees.

"...and turn around, so your butt is in my face."

He rotated his scrawny ass around to face her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding nervous.

"Something I've only done to five other men, ever. A through-the-legs titfuck-rimjob."

She spread his hairy asscheeks apart, exposing his dark, stained asshole. Her plane of vision was dominated completely by his filthy, sweaty taint, and disgusting hanging balls. His limp penis dangled underneath like a sock.

As she yanked open his pale buttcheeks, she was hit with a disgusting musky smell. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled his ass stench.

"Ugh! Gross..." The things I do, she thought, gripping his hairy ass and pulling it as far apart as she could. She suppressed her disgust—another thing you become quite adept at as a model—and plunged her face into his asscrack.

It tasted foul and rank. She found his asshole and began slobbering at it, working her tongue into his depths.

As the beautiful model slurped his ass, his legs tensed, and his cock twitched. Her tongue—embedded in his shitter—actually felt blood flowing to his loins, via the dorsal, cavernous, and bulbourethral arteries. He was becoming hard again. That was good. The sooner he did that, the sooner he'd cum.

Then she played her pocket ace.

Still feasting on his asshole like a human centipede, she grasped her swinging tits—they were so pendulous that her nipples almost scraped the ground when on her knees—and pushed them between his legs, and past his balls, and up around his cock.

Working by tactile instinct, she sculpted them like soft jelly around his prick. She felt the throbbing of his renewed erection between her heavy pale walls of flesh, veins pulsing between her nipples.

Kate rubbed her monstrous jugs over his shaft, like a pair of loofah sponges. She stretched them both out to their furthest point—they nearly extended to his belly button, then smooshed them together, merging them in a single massive boob, with his cock buried at the center.

The man humped downward in a single involuntary spasm. She heard pre-cum drip onto the tiles.

"Uhh! UHHH!" the man cried as she aggressively pounded her fleshy fuck-balloons around his shaft from behind while rimming his ass.

Schluck schlock schlok.

Kate jerked her jugs frantically, her nude titflesh rippling like water disturbed by pebbles. Her oversized boobs bulged out as he burrowed his shaft through the deep canyon of her chest.

It's a game women have been playing forever, she thought from inside the dark depths of his hairy taint. Will he cum, or will I throw up?

She used her erect nipples like scalpels, lifting up his bouncing shaft with the hard points, then scraping backward along the veiny length.

The third man looked at them in fascination, his dick swiftly hardening. He'd never imagined such a thing could be possible. Truly, with such wonders on earth, why even aspire to heaven?

It also meant Kate was too distracted to stop his next move. He wove his sinewy hands around her jerking midsection, mounted her again, and planted his cock right back into her pussy.

Kate's eyes flew back in her skull as his hips stabbed deep, his thrust tanked by her solid ass. She wanted to complain—hey, no double-dipping!—but couldn't. Her tongue was busy.

Oh, you opportunistic bastard. Agh!

He rammed his cock in and out of her cunt with squelching wet thrusts. Each impact of his hips rocked her forward, slamming her face-first into the other man's disgusting crack. The fucking ignited a raging fire in her pussy, and she shuddered and quaked in lust. Raw disgust changed into something else. She'd crossed all boundaries of taste and decency. She had nothing more to lose. She was just an animal now. Once, it would have seemed like degradation. Now? It was elevation. She was being hip-hammered into the empyrean, through the keyhole of a man's fetid asshole.

She was beyond shame now.

Kate crudely shoved her face even deeper into the man's asshole, gripping his cock from behind with her boobs, pumping like all three of their lives depended on it. The absolutely brutal fucking she was receiving from behind added force and urgency to her breast-assault.

The messy titwank-rimjob combo continued. Rough. Disgusting. Depraved. She brutally cleaved a channel through her rack with his prick, like a iron spike splitting apart jelly. Over and over, his cock skewered deep, pulsing wetly, before retreating and then doing it again.

Soon, the dicking she was getting sent her spiraling toward another climax. Her slobbering sounds from inside the man's ass became a low-pitched gurgling.

"UGHHHHH!!!! GHGHHGHUHH!'

Splorkk, splorgg, splorch, SPLORRCH! The fat-titted blonde didn't relent as she orgasmed, sawing his dick between her huge melons, swirling her tongue deeper into his ass. Smack! Schlup! Her tit flesh slapped against his pulsing cockhead. Every powerful thrust squeezed his shaft, milking it like a big, warm pair of cow udders.

The third man was still slam-fucking her from behind, his cock splurting in and out of her cunt with lewd, moist rasps and plops. Her orgasming pussy walls surged inward on his erection, like a house collapsing.

Smack! SMACK! SMACK!

With her body slam-jerking beneath punishing thrusts, she bellowed obscenely into the balding man's asscrack, her cries of more and harder and don't stop swallowed by dark, dirty netherflesh.

Squirt Squirt Schlorp Squirt! Her glutes wobbled as they absorbed the punishing sledgehammer thrusts. He pounded Kate's ass hard, making her scream.

"UGHH!"

A huge hump flung her forward, causing her knees to lift off the ground. She had to scrabble for balance. Her nose was wedged inside his asshole now. She ground her face deeper into the man's ass, using the dicking she was receiving as fuel to overcome disgust.

Then the man in front started to cum.

"Gonna...shoot...!" the kneeling man in front of her gasped.

She had virtually no senses except touch—her sight, hearing, taste, and smell were all swallowed or extinguished by the disgusting double-moons of his ass—but it's hard to ignore an orgasm when you're headfirst inside a person's guts.

The cock clasped within her breasts vibrated. She felt his anal ring rapidly squeeze like a camera shutter around her nose in several hard, almost painful spasms.

Torrents of thick cum pulsed out of his dangling shaft, shooting straight to the tiled floor. Splat! Sploosh! Splash! The backsplash wet her breasts.

As his anal flesh convulsed surged across her face, Kate's eyes popped open. She let loose with a loud, brazen cry, climaxing with him.

"AHHH!"

Hours of sexual frustration discharged like black voltage in that cry.

Her abdomen tensing in rippling spasms, an orgasm built and broke like an eggshell. Her hips drove backward of their own accord, trying to wrap her convulsing pussy deeper upon his cock. Now she was fucking him.

The man behind her jackhammered her seething cuntmeat. She lunged back with her hips, like a wildly bucking horse. Finally, he started to cum too.

Volcanic eruptions of semen scorched her insides. SPURT! SPURT! SPURT!

They'd passed an orgasm along the human chain, like an infectious disease. First the man in front, then the woman behind, then the man behind her.

And so for the next thirty seconds they squirted and ejaculated together, linked by mouth and ass and tit and cock and cock and pussy, tangled up like rats.

Finally, they came apart with exhausted gasps and grunts. The man she'd been reverse-titwanking fell forward, having cum so hard he'd lost consciousness. He went thud onto the tiles, like a sack of potatoes.

Kate groaned, her messy face coming detached from the balding man's asshole as his legs unhinged. A thread of saliva connected his asshole to his lips, then his hairy ass-cheeks closed, severing it.

Then Kate collapsed too, her makeup ruined from its voyage up a man's back passage. She landed face-down in the huge slimy puddle of cum he'd squirted over the tiles. Her tits smooshed against the floor in huge, fleshy disks that were nearly the size of deep-dish pizzas.O

Only the man at the back didn't fall. He just watched Kate's sublime feminity wobble and spill to an ungracious halt, her prone body suspended between two pools of cum, and felt his erection chubbing between his legs.

Seconds later, Kate felt his cock worming its way into her pussy again. Incredibly, the man wanted a third fuck!

Something like post-nut clarity hit Kate.  Her eyes fluttered open, her glazed expression slowly giving way to a look of dawning horror. What did I just do?

She wiped away facemask of smelly sperm, and aimed a kick at the man behind her, driving him back with a startled cry. His cock neatly shlupped out of her pussy. She staggered to her feet, shoving him aside. Shoving them both aside.

"Get out!" she clenched her fist. "Party's over! I'm done!"

"But we were having such a good time!" the man who'd fucked her said.

"Correct. We were. Now fuck off. Both of you."

* * *

Kate walked with wobbly knees to the nearest bathroom. There, she washed her face, redid her makeup, popped a breath mint, and tried to repair the worst of the day's destruction.

She took a final look in the mirror, and winced. She still looked like she'd spent the day being dragged face-first by her hair between the caves of several sets of possessive Neanderthals, which wasn't far from the truth.

She then re-dressed in her clothes, which were stiff and stained with ropes of dried cum. Several of the men had clearly ejaculated over them while they were piled in the waiting room. Her bra had been stolen. Like it fit me anyway.

But none of that mattered.

It's over. She almost sung this to herself as she rebuttoned her blouse. As she did so, she pulled a pubic hair from beneath her huge left tit and wrinkling her nose at it. It's done. Now I can go home and drink myself into a coma.

She was elated. High on life. Full of the joys of spring.

She still had to save her marriage, but she'd pulled it back from worse. She'd call in favors certain photographers owed her, to back up her alibi. Maybe use AI to fake some monkey photographs. Justin, God bless him, wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed (or the biggest, honestly). Besides, you could get away with a lot when you were Kate Upton.

Without hard evidence of marital infidelity, she'd skate. And, hell, a yacht did sound pretty good.

* * *

At the entrance to the hospital, the Touch of Love rep was waiting for Kate to return.

He was engrossed in a headline on The Dirty, posted one hour ago.

SPICY LEAKS! KATE UP-TO-NO-GOOD?

Several unconfirmed photos have hit the internet, showing full-time has-been Kate Upton in a... compromising situation. Justin Verlander, the (alleged) husband of this less-than-pure maiden, has locked his social media profiles and could not be reached for comment...

A number of photos of Kate titfucking men were included—the censored black bars across cocks and nipples perversely attracted his eye to exactly what they were supposed to disguise—but one made him stare, despite the absence of any celeb skin whatsoever.

It was a photo of a first-floor hospital window, showing the well-tended lawns outside.

He didn't know why this photo had been included in the leak—or taken at all—but something about it brought him up short.

Wait a second... he thought, studying it closely. Isn't that a photo from the first floor of the hospital...?

Then he heard the clacking of those black mesh stiletto pumps, and turned off his phone.

Kate Upton approached, her huge braless breasts bobbling somewhere near her belly, fuming with barely-controlled anger.

"Okay," she said. "I titwanked all of those bozos in Ward D. It was hell on earth, but I did it. Now I want my money. Enough to cover my debts. Plus you can comp me for a broken phone."

"You went to Ward B by mistake." He said flatly.

What happened next was comical. It was as though Kate Upton's pretty face was held together with screws, and all of them suddenly spun loose at once. Her expression sagged.

"...um...WHAT?"

"Ward D is on the fourth floor, not the first. Sorry, Kate. You went to the wrong room."

THE END