Though we’ve already broken the September barrier, the So.Cal summer is still in full swing, the heat feeling anvil heavy as the sun continues its descent, blinding-brilliant most days and the dark curtain-fall of winter showing not its face for the time being. I’m meditating at the beach when my flow is interrupted by two serious hotties, one of them the most sublimely plump little demoness I’ve ever had the privilege of exploring, visually speaking, and I immediately long to be engaged in some explorations of a more comprehensive nature. They’re having an apparent wealth of girl fun, and I notice they’re armed with preferred party favors in the form of a bottle of Jack and a half-finished, oversized Newcastle. I’m feeling done with my meditation. Off to engage.
-You know it’s illegal to have open alcohol containers on the beach, don’t you?
-You a cop? The fat one asks.
-No, I say. Actually, I’m an alien. So, why don’t you guys take me to your leader?
Instead, they took me to a party. At one of the nearby mansions overlooking the ocean, some lucky college kid’s parents had gone on vacation and left him to convert the place into rubble. He was well on his way. The place was teeming with party-goers and the fat girl, a rather severe-looking Arabian beauty named Kamilah, was cool enough to take me under her wing, introduce me around a bit, and fortify me with more bourbon as we got to know each other. She knew I was a sucker for big power-girls, at first by the way I continued to tease her jokingly, and conversely a little later by the way I began to fawn over her. I never leave any doubt in the mind of such a woman as to my desire to serve her. She was so hot she should have been illegal. It certainly should have been illegal for her to wear that skimpy bikini in public. To make matters worse, upon returning to the house, she had slipped back into her glossy white high heel pumps, which only served to send her already unhandle-able big girl sexual perfection soaring into realms of the unreal. For myself, I was damn glad I wasn’t in swim wear as the perennial hard-on Kamilah had given me would by now have ceased to be my own surreptitious possession, and would most likely have rendered me a bona fide party novelty as it made its presence known. That is, of course, if it hadn’t impaled somebody first.
Kamilah took great delight in the effect she was having on me, and I could feel her growing more comfortable in her dominance as she became more certain of my obedience. She tested me with a few simple orders as we mingled, getting her drinks, her snacks, her cigarettes, lighting the cigarettes; it didn’t take long. We snagged a fresh bottle of Jack and a couple of glasses from the kitchen and Kamilah led me up the regal stairway of this quite exceptional mansion into a super-swank, elegant guest bedroom. The room looked as if it had been prepared for a queen, with elaborate, expensive Victorian style furnishings, original artworks, a massive solid gold mirror, and an exquisite Persian rug tying it all together in the center. From either of the two windows you could see for miles out into the vast blue of the Pacific. I went to pour us drinks but Kamilah snatched the bottle from my hand and put it to her lips, downing a hefty mouthful and then passing it back to me. I followed suit and had barely set the bottle down on the end table when she shoved me forcefully down into the chair just behind me. She crawled onto me, straddled my lap, clasped my face forcefully between her hands and began to devour me with the most delicious, sloppy wet kisses I’d ever experienced. Her hot whiskied breath was a raging fire of pure lust, scorching my face and neck with unexpected power and sensual perfection. Her lips were so soft, so full, so delicious, I only hoped they would never again part from my own. She bit into my lower lip, at first playfully, then with increasing force and aggression.
My hands roamed freely over her fat, luscious body, trembling with agitation and excitement. She was divine. Her flesh was like crushed, silken velvet, the most incredibly sensual, SEXUAL sensation I’d ever felt with a woman. She wrapped her plump, gorgeous arms around my head, which began to drive me wild immediately as their imposing size and plush texture pressed through the sides of my face and straight into my brain. She continued to kiss me like a wild woman, licking, sucking, biting, as I said, devouring me. I was already desperately horny, literally beginning to implode as she worked her witchcraft on me.
She stepped down onto the floor, still bent over me, still tearing at my lips, which were now actually bleeding slightly from the assault of her teeth upon them, and at last released her grip on me. She looked into my eyes, giggled haughtily, and then suddenly snapped my head back with a jerk of my hair. She came closer, again breathing into my soul with her delicious warm breath.
-Tell me, big boy, she whispered. You strike me as the kind of man that’s in need of some serious discipline now and again, am I right?
I started to say something, but she put her index finger to my lips to silence me.
-Shhhhh, she said. You don’t have to answer. I already KNOW what kind of man you are. You’re the kind of man that just doesn’t feel ‘normal’ unless you’ve been punished for your transgressions. Mmmm-hmmmm.
She sensually licked the blood from my lip and swallowed it with near-orgiastic delight.
-Oh yes, she said. You’re a bad man, a VERY bad man. A man riddled with guilt. And you’ve just been waiting for big-ass Kamilah to come along and make it all better again. Mmmm? Yessss. Yes, I think I’m exactly right.
She licked the last streak of blood from my lips and smiled wickedly. Suddenly, the beautiful, playful woman had become transformed into something dark; a sublime, remorseless sexual powerhouse. A Satanic Angel if ever I had encountered one. Her voice became even softer and deeper.
-You taste GOOD, she whispered. You can tell a lot about a man by the taste of his…FLUIDS.
Her dark, rich brown eyes looked sternly into mine, possessed with some familiar but elusive quality of spiritual power. I shuddered inwardly, feeling the presence of something other-worldly at work within that gorgeous, Arabian soul. That look then dissolved into the knowing, sexy smile of the fun-loving hottie at the beach party, accompanied by the delicious sprightly giggle that signals a young woman’s awareness of her own Girl Power. She took another slug of the JD, and ordered me to light her a cigarette. As I did, the glorious movements of her big body were digging deep, touching nerve with every incomprehensible jiggle of her luscious bronzed flesh.
-I’m going to need you out of those clothes, she said, taking a deep drag off her cigarette.
I started for the buttons on my shirt, my fingers almost useless as they trembled with anticipation.
-Stand up, she said. I want to check out your bod.
I stood up and stripped quickly as Kamilah flaunted her surreal body in front of me, surveying my form top to bottom as she puffed sensually on her cigarette. When I had finished, she couldn’t help but crack a wry smile. As I stood before her in all my glory, my cock was reaching for her, stiffer than the flagpoles at city hall, and dripping pre-cum liberally in the true spirit of sexual conciliation. She reached down and wiped off a drop or two on the tip of her index finger, which she then artfully caressed with her marvelous lips, tonguing the sample around on her palette as a wine taster tests for confirmation of vintage.
-Mmmmm. Oh yes. You definitely taste good. Be a good boy and pour me a drink.
I poured her drink and turned to present it to her.
-Hold it for me a minute, she said.
She then turned and walked toward the door, her singularly phenomenal ass pounding from side to side like a wrecking ball with each powerful step she took. Watching those superb big legs shimmy as each beautifully heeled foot made solid, seismic contact with the floor caused critical malfunctions; circuitry and wiring, electrical processing units, speech centers. Steel cock overheated, trying to enlarge far beyond capacity, like sharp bone threatening to rip through flesh, some never before seen explosion impending. Kamilah locked the door, checked it twice, and, satisfied we were insulated here, turned and started back toward me.
Omigod. Same syndrome, different vision. The sound of those heels clacking at the hardwood before she reached rug again. Delicate, white shoes driven to ground by such massive weight and force. The physics of it don’t seem to work out. I spin out further. Her every gesture another bomb going off inside. All systems hit. Extensive damage. Beyond repair. Kamilah. With stern expression undulates back to me. Sees me broken. Takes the drink from my hand before it plunges earthward. Takes deep drag from cigarette. Blows it into comet-struck face. One short walk for a woman, she thinks, one giant devastation for Man-kind. She laughs.
-Open your mouth, mullet, she commands.
Everything is muddy inside, but I manage to obey. I open my mouth, and she drops her cigarette butt onto my tongue. Mouth is dry so it burns a bit longer than usual before mouth-moisture extinguishes it. An involuntary grunting noise issues forth from my throat and I am seized by a feeling of terror that tells me I’m lost. All control is hers. Consequences may be dire.
-Swallow it, fuck-brain, she says. Hurry up!
Somehow the butt goes down, but things are quickly worsening in here.
-See if you can guess who I am now, she says, giggling.
Sips her drink, sets it down on the chair, rears back and slaps the shit out of me. Like getting hit with a bowling ball.
-Snap out of it! She yells, Moonstruck.
I get it, and I know I want to say it: Cher. But everything’s broken down. Don’t know how, but connections are all severed. Desire won’t lead to resultant action. Willing won’t make body move. It fucking FLOATS in there. Cher, Cher, Cher. Goddammit. Not that it mattered anyway. The colors of her polka-dot bikini, the sounds of her heavy footfall on the Persian rug, the debilitating scent of her perfume, her exquisite flesh so near to me, and the divine sound of her voice, its words now fading into some alien language, the whole greater than the parts and I have become something else.
She laughs loudly at my ineptitude, slaps me harder. The jolt only scrambles things to the greater extreme.
-C’mon, motherfucker, that’s an easy one. Here, I’ll do it again.
She slaps me so hard this time that I fall to the floor.
-Snap out of it! There. Now I’ll ask you again. Guess who I am!
I’m down, distressed, and disoriented. The word’s floating around (in my head?) but I can’t grasp it. Cher…Cher… It’s no use. Kamilah is standing over me, laughing, pushing me to answer. Hopeless.
-OK, poor baby, she laughs. It’s too much for you. C’mon. Let’s give little baby his medicine before we put him to sleep.
She pulls me up by my hair and rips a thundering leg lift into my downturned face. The force of her gigantic thigh nearly decapitates me as it flips me over backwards in a full somersault with return trip to the floor. I screech in pain, clutching my head. The crushing blow has bloodied my nose and mouth, and I can’t tell what hurts worse, my face or my severely jarred head itself.
-Ouch! she laughs. That’s gonna leave a mark!
She glares down at her fallen prey.
-Get up, she says.
I try, but no chance.
-Too late, she says. Oh well, you’re calling the shots.
Same routine. Picks me up again and slams that huge leg lift into the other side of my face. I go down hard, face first, and just past the edge of the rug; solid wood. Now there’s some serious blood and I start to flip on the floor. Mackerel outta water. Everything going black. Kamilah cracks up harder as she sees the blood from my now flattened face on her leg just above the knee.
-Aww, she mocks, poor little baby not so good fighting girls, hmmm? You going to fight back, or are you just going to lie there and bleed?
All I could do was spin out. Not much left, and she knew it.
-OK, little baby boy. Let’s take care of Mama real quick, and then go to beddie-bye.
With that, Kamilah pulled me by my hair out into the center of the floor and plopped down onto my face, smothering me with her exquisite, monstrous ass and riding me towards her own appropriation of transcendence.
-Keep your tongue in me if you can, pig-boy! she exclaimed. Let’s try to do a good job!
She had completely shut down my breathing and along with the other existing complications I was on my way elsewhere in a big hurry. Kamilah rode me until she burst into a delirious orgasm, cumming all over my bloody, disfigured face. She then reached forward and began to stroke my throbbing cock. I screamed in exultant rapture from beneath her, but nothing ushered forth except a low, indeterminate, muffled sound. It only took a couple of strokes before I exploded, showering huge gobs of cum onto my torse and onto the precious Persian rug. Kamilah laughed wildly at the prodigious amount of jizz she had just extracted from me, and remained seated upon my battered face until I was unconscious and near death from oxygen deprivation.
When I awakened, someone was slapping my face, trying to revive me and there was a crowd of people standing around. I looked up at the concerned faces hovering above me. Their voices were a mix of ‘how ya doin’s?’ and ‘what happened’s?’ and ‘are you alright’s?’
-Do you want us to call an ambulance? someone asked.
I looked above me, everything fuzzy, disconnected. But I saw clearly enough the face of the questioner. It was Kamilah. She smiled a bewitching, knowing smile down at me, a momento of our time together.
-No thanks, I muttered incoherently. I think I’ll be all right.
I stayed right there in that bedroom for the night, unfit to attempt the drive home. The next morning, the kid that lived there and a couple of others were having coffee and offered me a cup. They inspected me like I was a zoo animal, trying admirably to keep their giggling suppressed.
-Rough night, one of them said.
I nodded, feeling thoroughly embarrassed and after thanking them for the coffee, made my way back to my car. As I let it warm up, I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. The cell phone number for a girl named Kamilah.
