Gambling Man - Part 4

Sorry for the long silence--work was crazy there for a bit and I just didn't have the time to belt out a new story. I hope this makes up for it :) 

This is probably it for Gambling Man, but we'll see if I come up with any other ideas for this guy. I kinda like where it leaves off here, but who knows?

I took a few moments to appreciate his stature. How his legs were thick and powerful, how even buried under a thick layer of cellulite he looked strong. Manly. How his cock was so long that it jutted out beyond his own stomach, and how it was so hard it actually lifted up his apron so it fell to either side of the shaft. How his foreskin had peeled back revealing a thick, purple head about the size of my fat fist. How it was slick and shiny covered in pre-cum--some from me, but most from him. He was eager to split me in two.

I was eager too. I flipped on my front, knees on the bed, ass up and inviting as my stomach and arms held the rest of me steady. He climbed on the bed, our combined weight causing a deep depression to form in the mattress as the springs protested being so overburdened. They’d soon sing a chorus of protests at our lovemaking.

He didn’t use lube. He didn’t need to. All he needed to do was stick his head between my cheeks and push. As if by magic, my cleft parted and his head homed in on my hole. He pressed in, and I felt him lift up his apron to drape over my back. He slowly pushed and every inch he inserted was simultaneously teased with his warm, sweaty flab slowly tracing a line of moisture up my backside.

At first, it was excruciatingly painful. I’d taken dick all day long and somehow none of it had prepared my hole for the giant pipe that was being laid inside it. I bit the sheets, I cried out, and he whispered soothing words above me saying he was almost all the way inside. So I grit my teeth and bore down on him, feeling several inches slide in all at once.

And then I felt his thighs hit my ass. I’d done it. Or at least, I thought I had. I forgot that both of us had plenty of give in our respective thighs and ass cheeks--I fact he reminded me of as he pressed in another inch or so, compressing our bodies together as tightly as they could. I felt our balls touch. I felt his cock twitch somewhere that felt like my throat. I heard a gasp, followed by a sigh. I couldn’t tell who made which sound, but I could tell he was in, all the way.

His breathing was hard. So was mine. I could feel his rapid heartbeat through my overstretched ring. He hadn’t even moved yet and it felt like he was close to cumming. He pivoted his hips, removed an inch from my rectum, and then slowly pushed it back in with a sigh. I yelped. It sounded more plaintive than I’d intended and he stopped, concerned. As a good whore, I reached back to spread my ass cheeks further, encouraging him to begin the business of fucking.

So he did. As expected, he was strong. I could feel the strength behind each one of his thrusts, but it was a strength built of restraint. He was massive, but that power was built on control. Even as his thrusts buil in speed and his ample flab began to wobble in wave-like patterns, his muscles kept reciprocating weight from pulling him too far or too fast. Mass in motion prefers to stay in motion, but his control meant that motion stayed directed toward a singular purpose.

No, two purposes, I realized. He was a giving lover, one concerned about his partner’s pleasure as much as his own. His size, his power, and even his cock weren’t just for his own satisfaction. The way his fat body molded into mine, how I could feel him so deep inside that it was hard to tell where I ended and where he began. There was a sense of protection here, a sense of safety that I’d not felt… ever. Certainly not working for the house, certainly not in any of my past female conquests.

He leaned down and managed to grasp both my breasts from behind. His thrusts were more rapid now, more insistent. We were both covered in sweat. My prostate had long since gone numb from the constant pummeling it was receiving. My groin felt wet. Maybe I’d come again already. Maybe not.

“Oh fuck,” he said suddenly, and then I felt the most powerful thrust yet, followed by an even more powerful expansion as I felt his load travel down his shaft and start filling my guts with his cream. In moments, his thrusts took on a wet squelching noise as his load started back-blasting between the two of us. I felt a sloshing sensation inside me like I’d just drank an entire pitcher by myself.

His orgasm lasted a while, but I kept meeting his thrusts even as I felt like I was going to pop. Finally, he slowed, so I slowed. He exhaled, and I exhaled. He didn’t pull out. He stayed there, gently slapping my ass playfully. It didn’t feel like he was softening at all. He just sort of knelt there, buried inside me, panting, our two bodies connected by semen and sweat that was quickly forming a sort of sexual glue.

“I have you all night, right?” He asked. I knew what I had to say, but somehow the words came out without being forced from me.

“You have me as long as you want, babe.” And I meant it.