Bab 6: Jim
not normally the type to act on impulse. Not in any big way, at least. Sure, now and again, I'll buy one of the cold sodas from the case near the register at the grocery store, or I'll think of some funny response to an online comment and I'll post it.
But this impulse isn't like those. It's not like any impulse I've ever had.
I'm in the hallway outside my fourth-floor apartment. It's about seven-thirty in the evening, and I usually go to the gym about this time. I'm wearing a tank top and sweat shorts; I haven't gotten around to the socks and sneakers.
The color and movement of her blue and white floral dress catches my eye first. I turn my head and see her walking down the hall toward me, carrying one of those canvas beach bags.
She's big. Her waist is thick, and her hips are even wider, as is her chest; her low-necked dress shows off an amazing depth of cleavage. She's tall, too, only a few inches shorter than I am, and I'm six-three. She has pale skin, a round face, and a high forehead under long, curly brown hair.
I don't see all of these details individually: They hit me all at once, like a pallet of cinderblocks hurled at my head. I see a woman, whose sheer femaleness overloads me with animal desire. No, not desire—need. I feel it in my chest, my arms, my groin, even my face.
She's just about to pass in front of my door when I step in front of her. I don't speak; I couldn't if I wanted to. She doesn't speak either, but she stops and stares at me. I don't know what she's seeing in my eyes, but I know it's nothing anyone else has ever seen there before.
I grab her by her upper arms and push her through the open door of my apartment. She doesn't make a sound—she just looks at me with those wide, brown eyes. And then I'm through the door, too, and my left foot is kicking it shut behind me. My apartment is a two-room, so once through the door we're already in the carpeted living room/kitchen.
She sees the door shut behind me and tries to push past me to get to it. I grab her in a bear hug, stopping her, albeit barely; her strength and body mass are both greater than I expected.
But that only spurs me on. I push her back, away from the door. The shove puts her off balance, so she's not ready to try to stop me when I grab hold of the low neck of her dress with both hands. I pull hard in opposite directions, and it seems the fabric isn't very strong, because one good pull rips it open down to her navel and reveals her worn blue bra.
She doesn't yell or scream; she just grunts as she grabs my arms and tries to keep me from doing to her bra what I just did to her dress. I don't try that, though; I just push, forcing her one step farther back into my apartment. She's resisting so fiercely that it takes a lot of effort just to do that.
Her strength doesn't deter me, though. In fact, it only makes me more forceful, because some deep, visceral instinct inside me is responding to it, urging me on, telling me that I must take her, force her open, fuck her.
She stumbles a little as I keep pushing, and now some impulse has me pushing her down instead of back. She falls heavily, her wide bottom slamming into the floor, and then I am on her, forcing her down onto her back.
She fights me as hard as she can, grunting and sweating with the effort of resisting me. I have to work for every inch of progress: pinning her torso down with my forearms, snapping the band between her bra cups and exposing her big breasts, ripping her torn dress off of her body. And when I let up on her upper half and grab the hem of her panties to pull them down, she goes into a frenzy, thrashing, struggling, fighting to keep me from exposing her most intimate, vulnerable place.
Her desperate resistance fills me with new strength. I stop trying to pull her panties down her legs and, growling through my teeth with the effort, I rip them off with both hands. Her brown, curly bush and the pink prize beneath are exposed, and I feel my cock harden into steel.
She's naked now, surrounded by the shreds of her clothing on the carpet. Her body is beyond magnificent—her huge, pale breasts and pink nipples and wide hips scream out her fertility, and her thick, strong thighs seem to dare me to force them apart. God, I need to be in her, fucking her, breeding her.
But first I need to be naked. Not for any practical, logical reason—pulling my shorts down would be enough, technically—but because my body demands to feel hers beneath it, against it, those big breasts against my chest and those thighs on either side of my bare hips.
I put the entire weight of my torso on hers to hold her down while I rid myself of my shorts. Then I shift my weight to my legs, pushing my back half up onto my knees. My freed cock is so hard and heavy that it hangs down beneath me like a stallion's, slapping against my thighs as I struggle with her.
I force one knee between her two, and her resistance becomes truly violent as she realizes how close I am to entering her. She hasn't tried hitting me until now, and now it's too late; her fists beat ineffectually against my chest, and her desperate attempts to fend me off with her legs only give me the opportunity I need to force them apart with my knees and pin her thick thighs open with my hips.
And now it's me who has a final burst of strength, because I can feel the heat of her cunt against my shaft and balls, and there is no way, none, that I am not going to shove my cock deep into her big, forced-open body. My primitive urge to get inside, to plunge into that heat, suffuses my body with power and unyielding need.
There's nothing she can do to stop me now, and she knows it. But she doesn't close her eyes or turn her head away; she just looks right at me, and the defiance in her brown eyes is the only form of resistance left to her. But at this moment, it is no more a barrier to me than the tape across the finish line is to a runner. Because beyond her resistance, I see another, wholly different desire that is urging me to keep going.
Putting my forearm across the top of her chest, I pin her down while I reach beneath me with my other hand and put my cock at her entrance. And now I know for sure what that other desire in her eyes is, because I can feel more heat and wetness between her thighs than I've ever felt from any woman I've been with.
I don't take my time. I've had all the foreplay I can possibly stand.
I shove my cock in, grunting with the effort, and she's so wet and open and ready that almost my full length goes into her on that first shove. She grunts, and maybe some of it is pain from having so much of her channel stretched open all at once, but there's pleasure in it too—deep relief and satisfaction, like when someone digs their fingers into a knotted muscle in your back that's been killing you for hours.
It's the sexiest sound I've ever heard a woman make.
With both hands, I pin her wrists to the floor, and I start fucking her. I'm not trying to go slow, but I'm concentrating on going deep, which keeps me from fucking her at full speed. Fast, frenzied thrusting will happen, and soon, but right now I want to feel the depths of her, and I want her to feel me there.
She feels so good—not just the tight heat inside, but her whole body, big and soft and hard and spread out against me, beneath me. It's beautiful, and it's real. And so are her big brown eyes, which only leave mine in the moments when she closes them out of pleasure.
It's all so new and so good that I have made ten or twenty or fifty slow, deep thrusts by the time I notice that she's not fighting me anymore. Now, her big hips have begun to move in rhythm with mine. The movements are sinuous and nuanced and full of erotic grace, and somehow I know that this is not conscious on her part, not technique or affectation; this is what her body does, how it seeks pleasure on its owner's behalf.
I let go of her wrists and shift some of my weight off her. I don't want to restrain her anymore. I want her free.
She wraps her thick arms around my back and her smooth, powerful legs around my waist, getting full purchase on me. There is no defiance in her eyes now—just pure, powerful want. We begin to move together, and now we are fucking, truly fucking, fucking each other. God, her body moving against me is like nothing, ever.
It's quickly becoming too much: The fighting, the fucking, and the raw, powerful sexuality of the woman beneath me have taken firm hold of me, so much so that my instincts have resorted to driving me with both carrot AND stick. I'm not just craving the pleasure of cumming; I feel the massive load building up inside me, and my cruel instincts guarantee me that I will die if I don't empty every last drop of it into the warm, open, moving body beneath mine. And there isn't a single sector of my brain with enough reason left in it to tell me that that threat isn't absolutely real.
But even so, I'm not worried. Because all the power in this woman's magnificent body, all the strength that had resisted me before, is now on my side, our side. She is moving with me, forcing me into her, fucking me as hard as I'm fucking her. No pleasure or satisfaction is beyond our reach now. I don't even know her name, but I know that.
Now the frenzy comes. Suddenly I am fucking her as hard and as fast as I can, and she's doing the same to me. Her grunts of effort and pleasure are as rhythmic and strong as the upward thrust of her hips, the push of her thighs against me. We are a pounding, rutting animal, grunting and gasping and fucking, fucking, fucking, until we're not just doing it but shouting it, screaming it, and I'm coming inside her so hard I could break my own back and she's gripping me with her legs, screaming at the ceiling, clutching me so powerfully she could almost crush me.
And then we're just breathing, breathing against each other. My eyes are closed now. I can't remember the last time my body worked this hard, in or out of the gym.
There's a loud knock at the door.
"Hey! Everything all right in there?"
It's Tyrell, my next-door neighbor. Fuck.
The woman, still panting beneath me, takes a deep breath and shouts, "Everything's fine! Sorry about the noise!"
"Sorry, Tyrell!" I call.
"Ohhh, okay, then," Tyrell responds, knowing and amused. "Y'all have a good night." Listening carefully, I hear him walk away.
I roll off of her, and we lie face up on the living room floor, catching our breath.
"That was fucking amazing," she pants.
"It was incredible," I breathe. "I've never come that hard in my life."
"God," she says, "when you forced my legs open, I almost came right then. It was like you were just all instinct, like you just needed to get into me and fuck. It would have been scary if it weren't so fucking hot."
"It's just that, when I saw you in the hallway, you were so...God, 'sexy' doesn't even come close. I just saw you and I wanted in. You totally live up to your profile, by the way."
"Thanks," she says. Her skin is a deep pink now, and I can't tell if she's blushing, or just still flushed from the sex and the exercise.
"You are damn strong," she says. "How much do you bench?"
"Max?" I answer. "Three-fifteen, last time I tried."
"Nice," she says, and runs a hand over my chest. Now I'm the one blushing.
"Man, you didn't make it easy for me," I say. "You do free weights?"
"Free weights, machines, kettle bells, isometrics—I like to mix it up. I get bored if I do the same workout all the time."
She smiles. How didn't I notice before that she's beautiful?
"But this was the best resistance training I've ever done," she adds.
"'Resistance' is right. You made me fight you for everything."
"Made it so much better, didn't it?"
"Definitely. I mean...damn. But I hope it's okay that I tore up your clothes."
"Oh, yeah, I was expecting that. Everything I was wearing was old, and the underwire in that bra is totally broken. I brought some clothes to change into." She points at her canvas beach bag. "And," she says, "you got it off me without hurting me at all."
"Well, the email from the woman at the website told me some things to do beforehand, like cut and file my nails so I wouldn't scratch you by accident."
"Oh, yeah, that was Linda. She's actually a friend of mine."
This explains something. "You know," I say, "after we set this up, I started worrying that maybe you didn't put that profile up yourself—like maybe you had a psycho ex-boyfriend who was trying to set you up to get raped. So I emailed Linda, and she actually called me to tell me your profile was for real. I guess she was afraid I'd stand you up or something."
"That's what happened the other time I tried this. Although I never thought that might be the reason. Anyway, I guess Linda didn't want me to be disappointed again."
"Well I sure wasn't disappointed."
She looks down between her legs, where a whole lot of my cum is leaking out of her.
"Yeah, I can tell," she says, grinning. "You know, every time I really poured it on, you did, too. And it wasn't just that you we're trying harder; it was like you were getting even more turned on. Can I ask what was going on in your head?"
"Well," I say, "it's...kind of embarrassing, but... every time I saw how strong you were, some kind of...impulse...inside me was telling me that I had to, you know, get you pregnant, so you could give me strong children."
Her smile fades. I can't believe I told her that. Shit, what was I thinking? This was maybe the most intense sexual experience I've ever had, with this incredible woman, and now she's probably going to get up and lea-
"Oh my God," she says. And then, almost breathing the words, she says, "That is so fucking hot..."
I'm getting hard again. I see her flush coming back, and her nipples are standing up, too. I hadn't noticed before how sexy they are.
But those are just parts, and again, they're melding together in my head. Now I can only see the whole: a woman, a beautiful, hot, naked woman, so big and soft and strong and fuckable. I want her.
"You want to do it again?" My voice is a little deeper, a little rougher.
"Uh-huh," she says. "Right now."
Lust is taking over, making me bolder. "You like getting fucked from behind?"
I can already feel my hands gripping that big ass, softness over steel, so we can mate like the animals we human beings are.
"Yeah," she says, her big chest heaving as her breathing quickens. God, she's everything I want, and I need to be in her again, fucking her again.
Then she says, "If you can make me."
The look on her face dares me to try. Wants me to try. Wants me to succeed. Jesus Christ I'm hard.
"Oh, I'll make you," I snarl, and then I'm on her and fighting her and I never want it to end.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone