Chapter One

 

Sabrina Cooper was a beautiful, dignified, statuesque young woman of steely demeanor and determined attitude. She was fiercely competitive and had excelled in sports at Smith College, where she had majored in Economics and minored in Math.

She had enjoyed her time at Smith. It was an all-girl's college, at least at the undergraduate level. It occasionally admitted men at the graduate level, but she had rarely encountered them. Despite the undeniable quality of the education Smith granted, it was not considered a particularly friendly environment to men, being an extremely feminist and progressive liberal arts college.

It had imbued her with a confidence in herself and her abilities and a determination to never take second place to men. Any man who belittled or patronized Sabrina would soon feel the ice cold of her sea blue eyes, and the razor-sharp cut of her tongue.

Being largely away from men for most of the previous four years, however, Sabrina did feel slightly out of her element and overly defensive around them. She was constantly watching, suspiciously waiting for a sexist or sexual remark, or an attempt to belittle her.

She remembered her high school years quite well, and not with nostalgia. She had been a gawky, awkward, buxom young woman then, and subjected to every manner of leering male insults and behavior. She had been made to feel very self-conscious about both her height and body, and the attention both drew from men.

Sabrina had worked her body hard at Smith, to ensure it was in excellent condition. This was done for reasons of health and success in sports, not for the enjoyment of male viewership. But it had lent her long legs a particular degree of smooth, sculpted lines which (evidently) men found fascinating.

She herself was bewildered by this, and failed to understand why the shape of her legs would interest anyone for any reason. Certainly, her female lovers at Smith hadn't cared or complimented them.

She did understand the interest in her breasts. She was generously endowed and, perhaps due to breast feeding, or perhaps simply due to generations of pornography, the male of the species had an infantile sexual interest in breasts, and the larger the better.

Sabrina had once done her best to disguise the size of her chest, but being slender and lithe, with a tiny waist, there was only so much she could do. After four years at Smith she no longer made that attempt. Her body was fine and anyone who said anything improper would be dealt with.

That did not mean, of course, that she would dress in a way to depict herself in a sexually provocative way, but nor would she hide in fear of inciting male interest. Smith taught young women to be fearless, and Sabrina had done her best to absorb that teaching, to walk through life with head up, shoulders back, and chest out, and damn the consequences.

Still, she was barely twenty-one, and was understandably anxious as she headed to work, on the first day of her first job after graduation, at Lennox and Lewis, a corporate bank. She had selected her outfit with great care. It consisted of long, loose black trousers and a gray jacket over a dark blue silk blouse.

With her brown hair drawn back from the center of her forehead, just across her ears, and then fastened behind her in a loose tail, she gave every image of an intelligent and educated person. The clear glasses, which she did not need to wear but wore nonetheless, added to that image, she thought.

Perhaps they would even help counteract the size of her breasts, for as childish and illogical as it was, the cultural view of women who wore glasses was the opposite of those with large breasts.

She made it to work without incident, was greeted properly by her new manager, introduced to her colleagues, and then to her cubicle, and given reading material to begin to familiarize her with her new duties.

It was all, she was relieved to find, entirely professional, with no one seeming to pay any real attention to her height or, presuming they noticed, her generous chest.

She spent much of the morning reading. She had a few brief chats with those around her, but still, was largely isolated. She read through her coffee break, not being much of a coffee drinker, and had lunch alone.

Lennox and Lewis had several thousand employees, all except managers and directors and those above them in small, high cubicles. Non-work-related conversation was actively discouraged. It was, she soon realized, like being alone even though surrounded by people.

Soon an IT man arrived to get her signed onto the system, then one of her colleagues, Amy, a woman twice her girth and age and half her height, came to teach her how to find and make use of various programs on the system and then left her to explore further on her own.

Thus passed the afternoon.

It was a very long day, and one which had been, for Sabrina, uncharacteristically spent in a chair with very little movement. There was no hurrying through corridors from class to class, from study hall to library, no leaning against the wall chatting with her friends, and no lunch with groups of other students. Nevertheless, despite having done little, physically, all day, she found herself to be quite tired at the end of the day.

She was grateful to leave, to join the mass of people on the sidewalks, trooping down into the subway, shuffling aboard overcrowded trains, and headed back across the rivers to where ordinary people lived.

Ordinary people rarely lived on this island. This island was for those with six and seven figure incomes. This island was Manhattan, and unless one went north of Central Park, into Harlem, it was simply not a place for people like Sabrina. Brave, she might be, but Sabrina was not that brave, so, like most other workers, she journeyed across the river to more affordable housing.

For her, due to proximity, that meant Queens, where she had rented a ridiculously expensive bachelorette in a seventy-year-old, ten story apartment block. It was ten feet by twelve feet, with a small kitchenette, a tiny bathroom with a shower she barely fit into, and a hideaway bed in the wall.

Once she got home, she shrugged out of her work clothes and into sweatpants and a tank top, made dinner, then settled onto the sofa to watch TV on the flat screen attached to the wall. After that, she simply vegged out on the computer and watched Netflix.

Today had been exhausting given her lack of physical activity. She had neither the energy nor the place to exercise, though she felt guilty about that. She knew she had to find a way to exercise or she'd wind up like Amy.

The next day at work she explored the possibilities there. She was near Central Park, which left open the possibility of doing some jogging. She had been on the track and field team at Smith, so that seemed a natural. There were numerous gyms nearby, and the bank had its own in the basement, along with showers and change rooms.

After due consideration, she decided that if she skipped breakfast and most of her morning bathroom routine and got to work early, and exercised, she could then shower there. Perhaps she could even do a bit of running in the park after work, too, if she found the energy.

Exercising at work did have one danger. She would not be her poised and carefully dressed self, and that might cause her colleagues to look at her differently. But then again, from what she'd seen of her colleagues, none of them went near a gym. And since she saw little of them it hardly mattered if someone who worked ten or twenty or thirty floors away saw her in a sweaty, panting disheveled condition.

Rather than her usual eight O'clock arrival, she walked into the building at Six Thirty. She had left herself forty-five minutes for exercise, and the same amount of time to shower and get ready.

She headed downstairs to the gym, and found it, happily, largely empty. She quickly changed into yoga pants, athletic bra and T-shirt, which she regarded as sufficiently modest, and headed into the gym.

The first thing which caught her eye as she entered the well-equipped room, was a man, a very large man wearing a sleeveless T-shirt. His back was to her as he straddled the narrow bench on one of the machines. The bar was across his startlingly powerful shoulders, his arms stretched out, his large hands on the ends of the bar as he squatted and rose, squatted and rose, grunting softly with effort.

Sabrina froze in place for some reason.

At Smith, she had come to wonder if she might be gay. She had not had a great deal of comfort in her male relationships in high school. All the boys seemed to want to do was grope her breasts and have her give them blow jobs. Sex had been extremely awkward and unsatisfying, and nothing like the more gentle, tender, and more physically pleasurable sex she'd had with women at college.

But now she realized she was certainly not gay, for the sight of the muscles moving beneath the tanned skin of those bare arms and shoulders, not to mention the firm, deliciously contoured buttocks within the man's shorts as he rose and squatted had her almost literally breathless for long seconds.

Sabrina had never in her life come into personal contact with a man this large and powerfully built wearing so little clothing. She gulped and dropped her eyes, feeling a flush come to her cheeks, then took a deep breath and moved around him, ignoring the sudden thumping in her heart.

She searched out a more familiar machine, but one which would give her a view of the front of the man, and hurriedly turned to face him as she sat down.

Oh my!

She had to determinedly drag her eyes away from him after a quick glance, but they drifted back, before she pulled them away again to focus on starting her exercise.

He had gray eyes, a strong jaw, full lips, and short brown hair. He looked to be somewhere within five or six (or maybe seven) years of her, and his chest strained against his top as he squatted and rose, again and again.

She let her eyes drop to his bare legs.

Oh my!

They were very muscular, and she felt her nipples tightening within her bra at the proximity of such an incredible specimen of muscular male physicality! He hadn't shaved that morning, no doubt intending to do it in the shower after exercise, and that lent him a certain bad boy look which made her lower belly thrum with energy.

She yanked her mind away from the image of him in the shower - naked!

She forced herself to reign in her sudden and unfamiliar rush of sexual interest, focusing on her exercise, on working her thigh muscles and her shoulder, arm and chest muscles. The latter was particularly important on a woman with her size of bust, for ensuring the muscles which kept her breasts firm - or as firm as possible - was important to her sense of self-esteem.

But her eyes kept drifting that way, and on one occasion they met his, and darted away as she flushed again. Now she cursed herself for not having worn something more attractive. At Smith she wore a leotard, not a t-shirt.

She saw him move from the machine and go to the treadmill, where he began to walk, then jog easily, then run smoothly. Watching him run was a thing of beauty, and she found herself distracted several times.

She went to another of the treadmills and started it up, walking, jogging lightly, then running, faster and faster. She did not look at him nor knew if he looked at her. But she was desperately aware of him.

What was his name? Where did he work? What did he do? How could she find a way to strike up a conversation? Sabrina was, unfortunately, not particularly adept or experienced in male seduction. She'd certainly never had to worry about that in high school, for the boys had been all over her.

This man, however, was not showing much interest.

Nor were they alone in the room, so she couldn't exactly just start talking to him! There were other women, other men, a handful, all older, and none in anything like his shape.

She got off the treadmill and worked her chest muscles again, doing her best to watch him without him noticing, but then noticed the time. She gasped and headed for the showers.

The showers were unisex. That is to say, each of the small, narrow rooms had a small shower, a sink, and a mirror. Sabrina quickly locked herself in one, stripped, and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain.

She soaped up quickly - well, using shower gel rather than soap, for it was better for the skin, but it was impossible not to think of that man. She wondered if he was in the room next door even now, naked, soaping up!

She looked down at her body and the hard, pointed nipples protruding from the swollen pink areolas at the center of each breast. Her fingers spread wide and she cupped her breasts, lifting and squeezing them together, imagining that man with his hands on her, imagining him with his eyes on her, those somber gray eyes!

Her hand slid down her slippery body and she gasped softly at the feel of her swollen lips as her fingers lightly brushed up and down. The sensations this roused swept up through her belly in a rush, and she rubbed harder, moaning low in her throat.

This, she thought, was crazy! However breathless, however tight her chest, however aroused, she could not be so undignified as to masturbate in a public shower at work!

She pulled her fingers away and turned on the water, rinsing off quickly, lest the feel of her warm, slippery skin under her fingers rouse her further.

You're at work! she told herself sternly.

And then she heard a sound, and turned as he slid the curtain fully open and stood there, looking at her with those cool gray eyes.

Sabrina was stunned, astonished. She stood in frozen shock at the enormity of the psychic shock of seeing him there, filling the opening, naked! His muscular chest gave way to the rippling washboard stomach below, then his flat, smooth abdomen and there between his legs were his testicles and penis.

He was not erect, but neither did he hang like a limp little noodle. His penis was sufficiently swollen and extended downward along his thigh to make her gasp, even as it began to thicken and harden and then rise up to point unerringly at her belly!

He stepped past the curtain, and there was simply not room in the little shower cubicle for the both of them. Yet he found the room somehow.

She finally jerked out of her frozen reverie and opened her mouth to cry out, her hands rising as it to hide her nudity, but he pushed forward, and then his lips crushed hers before she could speak, his muscled chest pressing in firmly against her breasts!

She felt a hand behind her neck as his mouth seemed to... to feed at hers! His body was grinding softly against her as his other hand cupped her breast and kneaded it! Then that hand dropped low and thrust in between her legs!

The curve of his thumb pressed up along the line of her sex as his index finger extended down, and his hand gently but firmly caressed her, sliding up and down, the pad of his thumb unerringly finding her clitoris as she began to squirm in body and mind!

But she was pinned to the wall in the tiny room, the tiles pressed against her bare back and buttocks as his lips continued to ravish her mouth! Her hands pressed against his chest, but to no avail as her mind was swept by wild rushes of emotions!

There was so much of him! His chest, his arms, his shoulders, his stomach, so... so firm and hard and muscled and powerful! He was so tall and broad of chest and wide of shoulder! And now slick and wet as his tongue danced across her lips and teased and taunted her own, as his lips massaged and stroked hers and his thumb rubbed insistently against her clitoris!

This was... impossible! It was stunning, and Sabrina felt literally stunned! She could not gather her wits to decide on what to do, on how to respond, on what even to say, presuming she could tear her lips away from his!

And her breasts were... throbbing! Her nipples ached like two hot, swollen pebbles! She was breathless, gulping in air, moaning, overwhelmed with wonder and confusion! The hand between her legs was sending hot, swirling rushes of sensation up through her body and into her already dazed mind as though flooding it with an intoxicating brew of wild sensual steam.

And then, abruptly, he dropped to his knees before her!

That, at least, released her head and she was able to speak. Yet all she did was stare down at him in wide eyed shock as he instead mouthed her 'down there'.

His entire mouth enveloped her, and she squirmed and gasped and yelped as his tongue began to ride along the naked line of her sex and his hands came up to clutch her buttocks!

This can't be happening!

Yet it was, and she hadn't even spoken, nor was she able to form a coherent message to him. She had to tell him to stop. That was it! But how!

She gasped anew as his entire mouth seemed to suction against her, then his thumbs spread the lips of her sex and his tongue attacked her clitoris with new vigor!

The sensation was so... raw and powerful and intense!

Sabrina cried out, and her hands went to his head as she threw herself backward. But she was already against the wall, and could only squirm helplessly as his tongue ravished her mercilessly! It swept across her swollen, burning clitoris with ferocious speed and strength, and she found the words within her turning to a swirling mass of heat, hunger and dazed need!

"Oh! Oh! Please! Please!" she gasped breathlessly, her head rolling against the tiles behind her.

Her body felt feverish, her mind gripped by a dark, thrilled heat the likes of which she could not remember ever experiencing! This was outrageous! He was... was... attacking her! But she could do nothing! The rush of pleasure and sexual heat was debilitating! She felt a need like none she had ever experienced, a desperate need that could not be resisted!

Then he was up again before her, blocking out the world! His broad shoulders could barely fit between the two tiled walls of the shower stall! An enormous hand gripped her upper arm and jerked her forward, then around. An instant later she felt his hands gripping her sides, her hips, and jerking them back roughly.

She gasped, crying out, her hands going to the wall in front of her. She could feel his cock, now fully erect, pressed against her buttocks. He moved back and it pushed out between her thighs. Again she felt a shock, felt outrage, felt anxiety gripping her! And again it all melted under the heat, the wild dark thrill of his body against her!

His right hand curved over her hip and gripped the tip of his cock while his left took hold of her hair behind her neck.

She felt so... overpowered and overwhelmed! He was so large, so powerful, so... male! And his warm, wet naked flesh was pressed against hers, grinding against her so as to make her heart pound like a drum! That should have outraged her, should have frightened her! It did, in part. But that part was drowned out by something like elation!

This was so amazing! So wild! So thrilling!

He rubbed the tip of his helmet head up and down along the hot, swollen furrow of her sex, and back and forth across her clitoris, so that Sabrina whimpered and moaned, her hips starting to jerk and grind instinctively.

"Please!" she gasped dazedly.

She felt his breath hot against the nape of her neck, then his teeth nibbling, his lips pressing gently, his tongue stroking. She gasped and moaned as he kissed her, as his teeth chewed softly, as he sucked against her throat and shoulder while rubbing his helmet headed cock up and down against her!

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked in a soft, deep growl of a whisper.

She shuddered, feverish, gasping.

He jerked sharply and stingingly at her hair and she cried out.

"Say it!" he barked.

"Y-yes!" she whimpered in a small, helpless gasp.

"Spread your legs," he growled.

Moaning, trembling, she obeyed.