Book Excerpt for Xenofestation 3-03

~SAMPLE~

"How much do you want?"

Ornella Mito grinned.

"All of it," she answered.

Oscar Ogwaye laid the smoky spit-slicked length of his meatpipe cock onto her naked belly, his fat balls resting warm upon the peak of her mound, the crown of his glistening, rounded glans reaching almost to her ribcage. Her jaw ached - but in a good way - from trying to take it, her tongue tingled with the memory of it.

"This might hurt a bit," he warned, drawing his length slowly back, easing the tip down toward her entrance.

Ornella shivered in anticipation.

"It better," she replied.

Oh but she loved Oscar's dick. It was just the right amount of too much, and boy did the boy know how to use the thing. He wasn't showy or boastful either. She loved that about him, how he reacted when she coaxed him to let loose. Almost innocent.

But then, when he did let loose...

Unlike almost every other guy she'd ever met, Oscar was completely unfazed by Ornella's fame, almost as if the godlike status of his dick cancelled out her celebrity. If anything, she was over-awed by him. When she'd first stripped the security guard uniform off his muscle-packed body and seen the cock she had to work with, her jaw had dropped and her mouth had watered and she'd said "wow" in a small, half-disbelieving voice, like it was her first time all over again. And, ever since, she and Oscar had been playfully competitive about the outsize length and girth of that cock, how much he would give and how much she could take.

The very first time they'd fucked, he'd told her, in all seriousness, "say when...", before carefully and considerately easing himself into a cunt in which his cock felt natural and utterly right even as she gasped at how much it stretched her. The gasp had been all Ornella had answered him with. She had steadfastly never said "when", not even when the rounded head of his deep-thrust cock was butted firmly up against the highest reach of her cunt, at which point she'd said, her eyes watering but with a cheeky, challenging smile too, "Is that all you've got?"

And he'd laughed, and she'd seen his jaw set firm in a way that seemed to say, "Okay then, I'll show you what I've got," and then they'd set about breaking the bed, together, using her fuck-soaked body as the hammer.

Each and every time since that first night, Oscar had made a point of asking her how much she was able to take, and she'd made a point of showing him she could take all of it.

Each and every time.

Now, as Oscar shifted, sliding downwards, and the shaft of his cock drew back over her peak, down the cleft of her, Ornella could see it pick up yet more of a glisten on its underside where her warm and welcoming labia kissed it. Then he was sliding upwards again, using his stiffness to rub her, to tease her with the heft and the heave of it. And now she was lifting one leg higher, to give him more room, and he was digging the head of his cock firmer into her furrow, digging and pulling back, a little deeper each time, and deeper still, like it would be the most natural thing in the world if one time it just happened to slip in. As if it could ever be so easily eased into her that it wouldn't make her gasp as it popped her resistance, though it had every time before.

And though Ornella wanted that more than almost anything, to feel Oscar's cock plunder her, to open herself to him for just that purpose, on a whim she found herself squirming out from underneath him.

He let her go.

He was big enough and heavy enough to pin her if he chose, but Oscar let her squirm out from beneath him, pivoting with the tip of his spear lodged always at her opening, and he caught on to what she was trying to do, and he went with it, grabbing her round the waist and rolling himself beneath her, so now she straddled him, thighs wide around his hips, his cock still nocked ready and risky at her entrance.

And she pushed herself down onto him.

Ornella was always shocked at how well Oscar's big cock slipped into her cunt, how natural it felt when it was there, like it was right, not wrong, even as her muscles instinctively screwed themselves down on it, even as its heft made her ache, even as his hips lifted to find the perfect angle to slot himself home, far firmer and far deeper than any man had a right to expect.

"Oh fuck it hurts, baby," she panted. And, when Oscar faltered at her words, "No, don't stop!"

So he didn't, sliding that big thing up the channel of her cunt until it was all the way home and Ornella gasped, and felt her thighs tremble, and her clit throb, just as she always did, and she leaned down to put her lips to his ear.

"Now," she breathed, "fuck the good girl into me."

Oscar laughed.

"Nobody could ever do that," he replied.

"Okay then," she said. "Be a good boy instead. Show me what happens when a good boy meets a bad girl. Show me what I'm for."

So he did.

The length of his shaft was the best bit, Ornella always thought, the length and the punishing hardness. That and the power behind his thrusts, the inexorable strength he used to drive his cock into her, to make her cunt his own. More than that, it was the fat head of it, working its way back and forth, ploughing itself afresh with each muscle-bunched thrust. And the icing on the cake on top of that? The concentrated expression on his face, so distant in his own world, yet completely focused on the task of fucking her, like it was the most important thing in that tight little world, the only thing. And still, even beyond that, the very most bestest thing was something Ornella couldn't feel or see, at least not yet.

It was something she knew.

It was the knowledge that down there, behind the fat head, at the far end of that long, oh-so hard shaft, were his two heavy balls, bulging full of what he had for her, and the knowledge that Oscar was going to keep pistoning that fat, long, oh-so hard cock into her until he had emptied those balls all the way up inside her body.

And nothing in the universe was going to stop it happening.

Ornella shifted, jamming a foot onto each of Oscar's shoulders, groaning as she put all her weight into his lap, speared now at the spot where his cock split her cunt, her knees pushed so tight up against her chest that her vagina was the lowest part of her, and wasn't that always the truth of it? She rocked her body on her impalement, slow and supple, met the roll of his hips with her sinuous undulation, grinding herself on the fat thing that filled her to the utmost.

Fuck he felt so big like that, and she slowed even more, savouring every moment, not so much the feel of him but the full of him. So full she was, so tight with his length, that midnight-dark cock thrust dangerously deep into sweet-pinked pussy.

"Make me your fuckgirl," she panted, meaningless words as much for herself as for him. "Take me, fuck me, sling one up me, do me whenever you want, however you want, baby. Just don't ever stop."

She shifted back to kneeling astride him again, freeing herself to pump fast and deep on his girthy cock once more, and she laid herself down full length upon his hard, muscular torso, pressed herself to his flesh, her breasts soft, her lips welcoming, her cunt warm. She could use those adjectives in any combination, she knew. Breasts warm, lips soft, cunt welcoming. Ornella would happily let Oscar use her adjectives any way he liked, any time he liked.

And she used him too.