Hello, my name is David. I am 87 years old and I am dying. As I lie here on my deathbed, awaiting the inevitable, I’d like to share with you my life story. To me, it is an extraordinary tale, but alas, that is my personal opinion. I will leave it up to you to decide for yourself if my story merits such distinction. As with all stories, deciding on where to begin is most important. While my life, my true life, began on my 18th birthday, I feel I would remiss if I didn’t first explain how I came to that point. Who I was following my 18th birthday was not exactly who I was prior, but it helps to know what kind of person I was so you might at least understand the decisions I would make. So I guess I’ll start at the very beginning, my birth.

I was born in 1974, somewhere in Illinois, and given up for adoption shortly after birth. I had no idea who my birth parents were and the only name I had was David. I spent my first twelve years in and out of foster homes, which eventually led me across the country. I know there are many great foster parents out there, but unfortunately, I would never come to live with any of them. Instead, I ended up in homes where I was viewed as nothing more than a government check, at best, and a punching bag, at worst. It was in one of these homes that, after a violent clash, that I gained the attention of the local media that would lead me to my “forever” home with Robert and Melanie Henson.

I have to admit that I was an anomaly of a child. It was clear to anyone who saw me with other children my age, that I was much bigger, stronger, smarter than my peers. It was clear that I would likely grow into a very large, capable man, but at the time, I was still just a child. A child who stood no chance against the abusive fists of drunken adults, who were too cowardly to deal with their own problems and chose to take it out on me instead.

Everything changed when I hit puberty and began my transformation from boy to man. I had always been ahead of the curve, for my age, when it came to development and puberty was no different. By the time I was twelve, I was already 5′ 5″ and weighed over 130 lbs and showed no signs of slowing down. Although I was still out-sized by my foster dad, I had finally reached my breaking point with the abuse.

While foster dad, Frank, was bigger and heavier, he wasn’t in very good shape and had relied on his size alone to abuse me. I, on the other hand, had become quite fit and strong. I had worked hard around the house on my chores and had taken religiously to intense physical training as an outlet for my pent-up rage. I beat the man to within an inch of his life that night and was only stopped when the police arrived, called by my foster mother out of fear of what her and her husband had created. Both parents were arrested and I was taken into protective custody.

I spent the next six months in a children’s wing of a mental clinic under intense scrutiny from the medical staff and psychologists to determine if there was any lasting mental damage to me. As I said, I was far more intelligent than my years would suggest and knew that the only way out was to play along with the clinic. I had been tested way above board on their evaluations and was eventually cleared to leave. Because I was a ward of the state at this point, the clinic had final say on where I would end up and they placed had placed me with the Hensons.

Robert and Melanie Henson were a young couple, Robert 31 and Melanie 27, who had failed at having children of their own and decided on foster care. They had heard about me from the media surrounding my abusive home and actively sought me out to care for. Robert was an activist lawyer and Melanie was a certified teacher, but had quit to pursue a career in aerobics instruction. Since I’d be living with a professional family and essentially a stay-at-home foster mother, the state awarded custody of me to the Hensons.

While everything seemed perfect on the surface, which it was, at the start, something had changed in me. As I stood over the abusive Frank, pummelling the life from him, I realized how attractive power and control was. I vowed I would never again be at the mercy of anyone else and would strive to ensure that my life was lived on my terms. Naturally, I kept this part of myself hidden from my new fosters and the social workers who would do their regular check-ups, but it was always there and I was always observing, analyzing. After my first year with the Hensons, I began to notice a change in the home. It was clear that Robert was not as keen on bringing me into their home as Melanie was. I could read Robert like a book the moment I arrived.

Robert was a small man, standing at only 5′ 7″ and narrow in frame. He was often bullied and picked on in high school, because of his dimiuative size, and carried a chip on his shoulder into college. He saw how the jocks and other Alpha types seemed to breeze their way through school, college and into high paying fields all thanks to some “Good ol’ Boys” club he had imagined. He was always jealous of the way girls and success seemed to throw themselves at these guys and not allowing himself to entertain the notion that it was confidence, attitude and hard work that was responsible for their “privileged” lives. Sure, being genetically inferior to these men didn’t help guys like Robert, but where some would deal with and overcome their disadvantage, guys like Robert would use it as a crutch to explain away their misfortune or lack of opportunity.

Robert found solace in activism while attending law school. He drank the kool-aid and bought into the idea that the kind men he despised deserved to be brought down. The people he associated with were mostly on the lower end of the genetic scale, like Robert, and allowed themselves to be consumed with an ideology that the “have’s” and “have not’s” were not a result of hard work and sacrifice, but simply two camps that you were either born into or you weren’t.

It could be argued that Robert and I were not all that different. That we were both bullied and abused by those bigger and stronger than us and we both had vowed never to be the victim again, but that was where the similarities ended. The differences were, I chose make my own way, to never allow myself to be preyed upon, while Robert chose to attack those who had simply done better than he, angry at them for being successful where he wasn’t. Robert was just like the abusive foster’s I grew up with, just without the drinking or drug habits. He was a cowardly punk who lacked the manhood to stand toe-to-toe in the ring with the competition and earn his way to the top. Instead, he chose to attack others who had put in the long hours, the leg work, the sacrifice, to build their lives and leech off the petty lawsuits.

At home, he was a dictator that often bordered on the verge of tyrant. He could put on a good show for company or the social workers, as he knew how to be polite and well spoken, but he was always paranoid of everyone around him. He was extremely jealous of Melanie and always kept her under close supervision when he could. He would just short of interrogate her when he would come home from work and ask about her day. He made sure to keep track of everyone she talked to, appointments she had and how long she took to do them. He would call her throughout the day to make sure she was still at home. He demanded that things be done a certain way, that meals be prepared at certain times and even I even think he decided on her attire. While it was very clear that Melanie was the one who really wanted me as their foster son, it was also very clear that Robert went along with it, because it afforded him the opportunity to virtue signal what a great person he was by taking in the media recognized abused kid.

As I said, Melanie wanted me, not for the boost in status, but because she genuinely wanted to give me a good home. She was a pixie of a woman, at 5′ 1″, beautiful and gentle as they come. She used to be a school teacher and at only 27, quit only after a few year, to pursue a career as an aerobics instructor, or so she says. I feel Robert had a hand in it and demanded she quit teaching so he could keep her at home. He probably allowed her to focus on aerobics, because it kept her fit and sexy, but I knew, and I imagine Melanie knew too, deep inside, that he would never allow her to do so professionally.

As I said, Melanie was beautiful. Her devotion to fitness kept her tight and toned, plus with the lack of child-birth, there was no wear or tear on her. She had a natural “C” cup, which on her small frame, made them look much bigger and fuller. Being that this was the 80’s she naturally had big fluffy hair that would run half way down her back when it was wet. Unlike Robert, with his brown hair and brown eyes, I probably could’ve passed as Melanie’s biological son, since we both had golden blonde hair and blue eyes.

Despite how controlling and borderline abusive Robert was to Mel, she did not seem to care too much, in fact, she seemed to prefer it. Even if she continued as a teacher or fitness instructor, I doubt she would’ve made a very good one. Sure, she had the knowledge and the skills to impart what she knew effectively, but she lacked confidence or desire to have to tell others what they need to do. As I grew up, never once did Melanie tell me I had to do anything, instead preferring to either ask if I would mind or just doing it herself. It always amazed me that that woman worked her ass off around the house, yet still found time to exercise, teach me and tend to her husband.

As I said before, I was intelligent, but I liked to keep that to myself, preferring to play dumb. I always found it more beneficial to learn about others while giving up little about yourself. By playing dumb, yet being smart, I was always able to get people to reveal more about what and how they think, while keeping that part of myself secret. You’d be surprised just how much information someone is unknowingly willing to offer up when they think you’re an idiot. Furthermore, I always kept up a sense of defensiveness and aggressiveness about me. I also discovered that if people viewed me more as a wounded animal, ready to strike if I feel threatened, they would be less apt to dig too deep or get too close. By appearing slow and potentially violent, I was able to move about without interference and dissect nuance in conversation without detection.

Because of my “nature”, Robert was eager to keep me out of the public eye. He had future plans on public office and didn’t need his resident neanderthal stirring up trouble and damaging his image. I was simply there so he could say what a good and caring man he was, but as soon as I turned 18, I was gone. That is why I remained in foster care and never actually adopted. Although he didn’t like the idea of his wife being at home with me all day either, he had to make a concession and decided she would homeschool me. Being a teacher herself, he thought it would be good for her to occupy her time, hopefully giving up on the whole aerobics instructor bit and instead, give me an education so I might not be quite the embarrassment he figured I would become.

In addition to my general education, Melanie included me in her aerobic workouts, though it was easy to talk her into allowing me to incorporate more weight training into my regimen. While I was never demanding of Melanie, like Robert was, I did make sure to tell her precisely what I wanted. It didn’t take long to see that she desired that kind of interaction and providing for those she cared for with exactly what they wanted gave her a sense of fulfillment and made her feel good. As we would come to spend so much time together, she became more comfortable to sharing things about herself that Robert never cared to learn.

She told me how she and Robert met while she was senior in college. His organization was invited to speak at a conference hosted by one of the student unions. Basically, it was an echo-chamber used to indoctrinate young radicals to continue the fight to disrupt the accomplishments of others rather than go out and earn your keep, but I digress. She was there at the behest of one of her friends and was immediately taken by the outspoken young man who seemed so confident during his speech that her friend noticed and introduced the two after the event. Melanie hung on every word Robert spoke from then on and followed him around like a puppy until they were married after her graduation. She also mentioned how he changed after their marriage.

She had gotten a job teaching at a local elementary and she said she could tell how it bothered him when she would get home and talk about her day and the other teachers. She said that she knew he was always a jealous man, but his jealousy increased as he discovered how happy she was and he realized that that happiness had nothing to do with him. Not only did he have to be the center of her world, there could be nothing else without him. If she wanted to go out with friends, he would have to accompany her. If she had to work late or attend parent/teacher conferences, he would drive her there and wait for her in the parking lot.

Robert wasn’t an ugly man, in fact, he was rather attractive, just small and not masculine, but also a prick. Melanie, however, was gorgeous, kind and submissive and easily would’ve been the woman of choice of any man to marry, which only served to drive Robert’s jealousy. Melanie was the kind of woman he would always lose out on to the Alpha types he hated so. Unfortunately, where any man would be grateful to have a woman like Melanie worship them, Robert seemed to punish her. I noticed it was almost like he knew he didn’t deserve a woman like her and was doing everything in his power to force her away, unconsciously sabotaging his marriage.

I was amazed by Melanie and her idea of “happiness”. She said it didn’t really bother her that Robert pretty much kept her isolated from the rest of the world. She said she preferred the simplicity of only focusing on him and gauging her success by his happiness, but there-in-lied the problem. She wasn’t making him happy. She lamented that nothing she did was ever good enough for him. All she wanted was to please him and the more she did, the less he seemed to care. She admitted to me that she would mess something up once in a while, on purpose, hoping that he’d even try to punish her for it, something, ANYTHING to make her feel like she was important, but nothing ever happened. He would get upset and scold her and then do it himself. She said that when he took her “duties” away from her she felt less than worthless, a failure.

So it was there, in New Mexico, at the home of Robert and Melanie Henson, that I would spend the next 5 years of my life. During my time there, the bond Melanie and I shared grew as we learned more and more about one another. It didn’t take her long to figure me out. During our lessons, she discovered that I was a whole lot smarter than I had been letting on and while she wasn’t quite as certain about my “tough guy” image, she knew that she could come and go freely into my personal space and did so regularly. She kept my secrets and I kept hers and together, we coped with living under the same roof as Robert. Robert was coward, punk bitch, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see bond Melanie and I shared despite our efforts to conceal it or perhaps he just assumed it. In either case, he grew more and more bitter towards us, especially me, but taking it out on Melanie and it all came to a head on my eighteenth birthday.

On a normal weekday, I would rise at 7 am and get ready for the day. By the time I got downstairs around 7:30, Mel would already have breakfast waiting for me and we’d eat together, Robert already having left earlier. After breakfast, I would read in the study while Mel cleaned up the kitchen before joining me in the study for my lessons. Today was different, however. Today, I was an adult. I arrived downstairs at around my usual time, but instead of being greeted by a delicious breakfast and an adoring foster mother, I was greeted to Melanie sitting quietly at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a cold cup of tea.

“What’s wrong, Mel?” I asked, alerted by the change in routine.

“Sit down, please, David.” She asked, offering the seat kitty-corner to hers, which I did.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have breakfast ready when you got down here.” She started, “Robert and I had a discussion, which put me in a fog.”

“It’s okay, Mel. Just tell me what’s wrong.” I said.

“Robert said that now that you’re eightteen he wants you to move out on your own.” She informed me, calmly taking my big hands in her little ones.

“Hmm,” I hummed in reflection to the news, “I knew this was coming, but I don’t know, I guess I just figured even Robert wasn’t that much of a prick to drop this on me on my birthday, you know?”

“I know, Sweetie.” She said, a half-smile appearing on her lovely lips as she squeezed my hands. “I tried to argue with him, but you know how he is.” The smile fled and she looked down and away from me.

“Yeah, I do know how he is and I know you’re not one to argue.” I squeezed back, acknowleding her submissive nature and appreciation of her to step out of her comfort zone, on my behalf. “You’ve always been very good to me, Mel, and I am grateful to you for letting me into your home and being a real mother to me.”

Tears immediately sprang from Mel’s eyes at my identifying her with the title ‘mother’. Overcome with a need for contact, Mel quickly slid off her chair and onto my lap, putting her arms around my neck and burying her face against my chest. In response, I wrapped her tightly in my embrace, holding her close as she languished in her inability to stand up to Robert and defend my presence in their home.

After about ten minutes of our tender exchange, Mel was finally able to regain control of her emotions enough to stem the tide of tears. She pulled away just enough that she could take my face in her hands and look up it.

“You have no idea how much joy you’ve brought to me over these last few years, David.” She said, running her fingers tenderly through my hair, her teary eyes drinking in every feature of my face.

As she sat across my lap, I had one hand around her back, resting on her tiny waist and the other across her lower thighs, just above the knees, our eyes locked onto one another as a silent conversation took place between them. Each seeing something in the other that had not been there before, or maybe it had, but we were unwilling or unable to express it, until now.

“I love you, David.” She said, her tone and her eyes indicating something more than just a familial connection and evidenced by an increased swell in her chest from heavier breathing.

“I love you too, Melanie.” I responded in kind, both verbally and physically, “You’re the only person in the world I do.” I added, drawing a small sigh from Melanie.

With that, I began sliding my hand up Melanie’s back, pulling her toward me as I went. She responded by following my lead leaning closer as our faces neared one another. She then closed her eyes, letting her mouth part slightly as her head began to lay to one side. I placed my hand on the back of her neck and drew her lips to mine.

This was my first kiss and I was unsure how to do it. Sure, I’ve seen plenty of them on tv and in magazines from the porn stashes of former fosters, but it meant little at this moment. Electricity shot through me as her lips pressed into mine. As if knowing my plight, my lovely teacher helped guide me through this process. I felt and heard her moan as she worked her tongue from her mouth between my lips. I followed her lead and opened my mouth to greet her. Melanie’s fingers and hands gracefully trekked around to the back of my head and neck in tactile exploration as her dainty tongue offered itself to my much larger one, seeking my approval. Driven mad by her temptations, I blasted past her tongue, plunging mine into her mouth, her nails biting at my flesh, her moans bellowing up from deep within and her body tensing from electrified pleasure revealing her joy at my acceptance.

With one arm up her back, pressing her against me, my hand on her neck, holding her lips to mine, I used the other to begin parting her robe, uncovering her toned thighs. To aid me in my efforts and to demonstrate her willingness to proceed, Melanie slid a hand from the back of my neck and pulled the sash keeping her robe tightly closed before returning it. I slid the material away and brought my palm and fingertips against her hip. From there, I began exploring her body, feeling the tight, supple, toned flesh that I knew was there, but always out of view. My cock strained in my pants as my fingers discovered the thin band of lacy elastic that clung there, draped over her pelvis and began to follow it around to the back. Melanie groaned loudly and leaned toward me, giving me access to take her shapely cheek in my hand.

I broke our kiss, seeking more flesh to taste and began working down her chin toward her neck. My large hand easily covered her tiny buttock and was even able to grope some of the other in a single grasp, causing Melanie to lift herself further to offer as much of herself as I wanted. My fingers following the natural contours of her ass, began to dip into the recesses between her cheeks. Melanie, gasped and quickly dismounted my lap to stand before me and for a moment, I felt I had done something wrong.

“Let me do this right for you, David.” She whispered, taking my hand in hers, beckoning me to rise.

I rose from my chair and Mel began walking past me, my hand gripped tightly by hers as she led me on. I followed her in silence as she led me out of the kitchen, up the stairs and down the hall toward her bedroom. My cock ached at the prospect ahead.

We entered her bedroom and she lead me to the foot of her bed before turning me around. The way she moved, the way she touched me, the way she looked at me suggested a cornucopia of emotions were flowing through her. As I stood there, the little woman before me carefully slid her robe from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. I’ve never forgotten how sexy she was standing there. Her black panties giving stark contrast to her pale skin. Despite being a fitness nut and living in New Mexico, Melanie spent a surprisingly little amount of time outside. Her flesh had a pinkish hue to it, unmarked by the sun. She wasn’t wearing a bra so her ample breasts hung freely and perfectly. Her hard nipples stood erect and shared a similar dark pink to her puffed areola.

Without missing a beat, she hooked her fingers under her waistband and drew her panties over her hips, guiding them down her toned legs until they were clear of any obstruction and fell to her ankles before stepping out of them. I would come to discover later that I preferred shaved/waxed pubic hair, but this was the 80’s and that was not mainstream yet. However, Melanie kept herself well trimmed, leaving only a thin strip that pointed toward her pussy. The rest of her was smooth as silk. She stood there before me, completely on display, unafraid of her naked form. She slowly ran her fingers across her flesh in a seductive manner as she looked me in my eyes.

“I know you are inexperienced, David, but you have no need to worry.” She spoke softly. “I give this body to you, to use as you desire.” She stepped forward, her hands on my shirt, pulling it up. “Whatever you desire from it is yours.” I helped her pull my shirt over my head before discarding it to the floor. “Think only of yourself, David.” Her hands slowly traced down my toned, muscular torso. “Be greedy, be selfish.” Her fingers undid my button, followed by lowering my fly. “Today, I belong to you, only to you.” She wiggled her wedding ring from her finger, dropping it on her robe. “I am your slut, David, your whore.” She dropped to her knees, pulling my pants and underwear down as she went until my cock was released.

“Oh.” She gasped, staring at me in awe, her seductive routine interrupted by the appearance of my manhood. “My God…” She touched her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide as she was clearly taken by surprise by what I’d been hiding all this time. “It’s, it’s so beautiful.” She gushed as she tentatively brought her other hand up to it, taking the heavy rod by her fingertips to examine it.

“Is it nice?” I moaned, as my cock strained under her touch.

Melanie cast a quick glance up at me before returning them to my cock. She nodded her approval emphatically, still awe struck by it. She took my shaft at the base in her grasp and squeezed it firmly, but gently and admired the large droplet of precum that began to leak from my tip. Melanie, barely able to get her hand around half of it enlisted the help of the other as she knelt before me, two-fisting my base as my juice oozed out. I watched as she leaned forward, taking the tip to her lips, slurping the precum before it fell, finishing it with an audible kiss to break the fluid off in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring my flavor and followed up by licking her lips as she stared up at me.

“You taste so good.” Was all she said before diving her mouth onto my head and sucking my tip as she started to jerk my length, working more of my precum into her hungry mouth.

“Fuck!” I moaned, my mind numbed with pleasure never before felt.

Sure, I masturbated frequently and I’ve seen porn mags, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what Melanie was doing to me right now, no woman could. This wasn’t just the ministrations of a woman who wanted to have sex with me. I was being tended to by a woman who loved and adored me. This was a woman who wanted to make love to me without any concern about what I had to offer. Clearly, she had never seen, let alone experienced, anything quite like my cock before. This was a devotion, a worshipping of what stood before her. Something clicked inside Melanie when she discovered my manhood and in an instant, her sole purpose in life was to pay homage to it.

Melanie continued to stroke my cock and feed herself on the mixture that she milked from the shaft. With her eyes closed, she whimpered and mewled as she eagerly drank of my essence, her tongue poking, proding, flicking and slathering over and around my pisshole, in an effort to coax more out.

Remembering what she said and what I’d seen in magazines, I figured the next step was to put as much of it in her mouth as I could. I placed my large hand on the back of her little head and started pulling her down onto me while pushing forward with my hips. I was able to get my bulbous head past her lips, but could get no further. Even with Melanie’s assistance in trying to force me down her throat it was clear I’d need proper lubing to get any further. I released my pressure on her head and she popped off. Looking up at me, she smiled broadly, her eyes filled with greed before spitting on my shaft and rubbing it in with her hands, while her tongue began bathing my cock. Melanie worked me like a machine, never forgetting to keep stroking me, bringing me constant pleasure in her efforts to soak my cock, but also never missing an opportunity to swallow more of my precum. Soon enough, I was ready to try again.

I reapplied pressure to the back of her head and with our combined efforts, I lurched into her mouth, lodging myself into the back of her throat. Caught off guard, I stopped, thinking I might hurt her, but Melanie gripped my dick firmly to keep trying to force me into her esophagus. She backed off a little bit before slamming her head forward, hoping that she could wedge me deep inside, forcing her supple throat to accomodate its new resident. The more she tried the more she’d gag and generate more saliva. She’d back off my cock, back to the tip and slather my shaft in her natural lubricant before thrusting me back home again.

Although she told me that she was mine to do with as I please and for me to be selfish, I still didn’t want to push the limits of those words. However, with her desperate attempts to impale her skull upon me, I grew bolder in my understanding of her meaning. I put both hands on her head and held her as deep as I could naturally go. I then began to bear down on her, with constant pressure from my hips pushing and my arms pulling, I could feel her tight throat beginning to expand. I could feel every contour, ever rib of the muscles and cartilage that lined her esophagus and trachea as I slowly advanced. Melanie, with her oxygen cut off, ceased any action on her part, staring teary-eyed up at me as she surrendered her throat to me.

Unfortunately, it was too much for her and her reflexes kicked in and she broke free. She fell to her hands and knees, coughing and heaving. Copious amounts of saliva, churned into a sticky slime from my cock plunging her throat, poured out of her mouth creating long viscous strands that clung to her body as they’d swing into her chin and chest. I began to lean down, concerned for her safety.

“Are you alright, Mel?” I asked, scared.

“More!” She cried hoarsely as she rose back to her knees her gaping, slimy mouth seeking out its abuser, eager to have it back, raping her tender orafice.

Slinging her arms around my hips, gripping my ass in both hands tightly, she soon had my cock buried at the back of her throat, desperate to be my personal cocksleeve. She had taken a deep breath prior to reinserting my manstaff, hoping that an abundance of oxygen beforehand might buy her the time to properly sheath my sword in its rightful place. To help her, I once again, placed my hand on her head and drove forth, but with more force and less care for her safety.

I grunted and groaned as I pressed deeper. Partly from the pain of how tight she was, but mostly from the pleasure of feeling her all around me as I pressed home. Melanie’s face was turning red and her eyes signalled her frustration at her limitations to accomodate my generous tool. Still though, she started this and I was going to finish it. Inch by painful inch, I slipped deeper into her. She rocked and convulsed as she fought her bodies demands to dislodge me, but we were so close. Her teeth dragging across my flesh as she could not open any wider, forcing my cock to constrict to pass into her. With one final thrust, I was home. I felt her face pressed against my pelvis, her balls firmly seated on her chin. She was still looking at me, though in terrible discomfort, I knew she was still with me and very pleased with herself. Her hands relaxed their iron grip on my ass cheeks and for a few seconds, we enjoyed the moment.

“You are amazing, Mel.” I said to her, softly stroking her face, “I love you so much.” Although unable to speak, breath or make sound, Mel signalled her appreciation by stroking my ass and kneading it like a content kitten. I reached down and felt the expansion of her throat and the pressure from my touch through to my cock embedded within. I wanted to cum and I knew she would’ve loved to have it after all that work, but it was simply not meant to be this time.

As wonderful as the sensation was, it was painful for both of us and Melanie would soon exhaust her oxygen. I slowly began withdrawing, the sound of the cartilage in her throat popping back, the slosh of saliva being displaced by the suction created by my cock was music to my ears. I exited Melanie’s mouth and she sat there, her mouth wide open as the saliva/mucus mix poured out. Thick strands hung from my long thick shaft, some slowly lowering toward the floor, others still attached to Mel.

“Thank you.” She mouthed, her throat too battered to speak at the moment. Melanie leaned forward, taking my slime-coated cock in her hand and leaning forward, pressing her face into my groin. Rubbing her head and cheek against my swollen shaft, she began kissing it and my balls in reverence and gratitude for allowing her the opportunity to worship. Something had snapped inside Mel to compel her to do what she did and now, it was my turn.

Taking a handful of Melanie’s hair, I stepped to the side, pulling her away from my groin and forcing her to bend over the foot of the bed. Melanie was all too eager to comply. I took a moment and looked at the small, tight, globes that hugged one another over the deep pink, swollen mound below them. One look at Melanie’s cunt had me wondering how I was ever going to fit inside when I could barely get into her much wider mouth, forgetting that pussies expand while jaws do not. Still though, I moved in behind her, holding my cock near to gauge the size difference. Just from the appearance alone, my cock was thicker than her entire labia was across, let alone, the miniscule hole they hid.

Melanie gasped as I dropped my meaty club down on her ass cheeks. Melanie’s hands, still not satiated with their need, reached behind her and returned to feeling me up and down. I positioned myself in such a way that the base of my cock was lined up with her opening and came to the realization that her pussy would have to run up to her belly button if I were get my whole length inside her. I knew enough about female anatomy to know that I wasn’t going to get my whole length inside her so I’d have to be careful about going too deep. That being said, I was still going to have to get in there to even find out.

Although still too sore to speak, I could hear Melanie’s disappointed pout as I drew my cock back, out of reach for her hands. She changed her tune though when she felt my head brushing against her mound. Quickly, she lifted her hips enough to sneak her hands under, taking my cock in them.

“You sure are greedy for that cock.” I joked, to which she nodded and moaned, caressing me in her hands as she rubbed my tip into her opening, rocking her hips against it.

“You’re MY bitch now, aren’t you, slut?” I hissed, turning up the eroticism as best I could.

“YES!” She attempted to cry out, but only whispered in her hoarse, broken voice. “YOUR BITCH!”

With that response, I wasted no time pressing forward. I didn’t want to rush anything or hurt her. Hell, I wasn’t even sure she could expand enough to let me in, so I had to be careful not to tear her up or push too fast or hard. I watched in awe as I saw her little hole began to open as I pressed against it, freezing Melanie in anticipation. As I pushed into her tight hole, her breath quickened as it was clear she’d never been stretched so wide as my head was nearly inside. I grabbed her slender waist to hold her steady as I inched forward, my spit-drenched cock and her dripping slot doing little to help ease my entry.

“Oh, oh, oh.” She whimpered, as I was now two inches in, splitting her wider than she had ever previously imagined. With one hand, she began to rub her clit and the other pawing at her labia that felt like it was about to tear.

Taking my time and giving her a chance to expand made the experience much less painful for Melanie, but was in no way going to allow me to cum. Still though, I needed to keep this snail’s pace until I found her cervix. Once I knew exactly how deep I could go and she was sufficiently stretched out, I would be able to pleasure myself. I was only a couple inches from being fully seated when I bottomed out, pressed against her cervix. Melanie groaned a deep animalistic gutteral noise when I reached home. Not out of pain, but shear pleasure from being so completely filled.

“So… Full…” She moaned, gyrating her hips causing her vagina to press and pull around my cock, her body begging me to being fucking her, relieving her of this tension. I would not disappoint.

I pressed down on her waist, holding it to the mattress and slid out to the tip. Melanie cried out, arching her back as my thick girth pulled itself along every nerve ending within her tender walls. Then I drove home, hard, but stopping just short of her cervix. Again, Melanie cired out, gritting her teeth, lolling her head about. She became very ridgid for a few seconds before she cried out again, bucking her hips up and down wriggling herself on my cock.

“OH GOD! YES!” She screamed, despite her hoarse voice. Her body began to shake and convulse, her tunnel clamping down on me all over, squeezing me inside her. “Oh! Oh! Oh! AAAAAHHHHH!” She howled, as I felt a spray of something hit my balls as her hand rubbed furiously over her clit.

“Holy shit, did she just cum? From THAT?” I wondered to myself.

I wanted to ask Mel, but she was just blubbering incoherently as her hips went on autopilot, jerking on my rod. Each convulsion adding another mini-orgasm to the main one she was currently lost to. I helped her along by gyrating my hips too, using my stiff tool to bend and press her guts about inside her. I slipped a hand under her belly and could feel myself bulging above her pelvis. Melanie quickly grabbed my hand and held it there as she continued to rub her clit sending her over the edge yet again.

“MRNHN! GNTRNH! UUGH! UGH! AAAAAAHAAAHAAAAHAAAA!” She wailed as I just plugged back and forth slightly, stabbing that spot in her belly over and over.

After a few minutes, Melanie finally come down off her high. The foot of the bed, her thighs, my thighs and the floor were soaked in her fluids that she had ejected during her orgasms. She was shaking, shivvering on the bed and despite the goosebumps that riddled her entire body, I knew she wasn’t cold. Now, it was my turn.

I drew back my cock, back to where just my very tip was still inside her and slammed forward. Because she was still bent over the edge of the bed, Melanie was unable to move with my momentum, meaning she took the hole shot flush. This caused her to cry out again, but rather than worry about another orgasm from her, I wanted to cum too, so I pulled back again and repeated the process.

Her pussy made sloppy, slurping noises as my viking hate stick plundered her helpless hole. To add insult to injury, I spread her tiny ass cheeks wide, revealing the pinkest little “browneye”. Lubing my thumb up on some of the expelled juices that covered our nether regions, I mercilessly pushed it into her ass to the second knuckle, eliciting another series of animalistic howls from Melanie, but I didn’t care. With my thick thumb seated deep in her bowls, I punished the little woman beneath me. By bending a little at the knee, I was able to slam my thighs into hers, using them as a way to stop my thrust before I did any damage to Melanie. She continued to cum relentlessly as I pistoned in and out of both her cunt and now her ass. I could feel my thumb through the thin membranes that seperated her vaginal walls and her rectum and so could she.

I was nearing the end of my run, my balls ached and tightened, ready to fire their contents at any moment. “I’m close, Mel.” I panted, “Where do I cum?”

“In me, baby, please!” She called out desperately. “Fill me. Fill my womb.” She begged, reaching under me with her hands to play with my balls, wanting to feel me expel my young, fertile, verile semen into her hungry womb.

In a matter of an instant, thoughts raced through my mind. Mel had told me a couple years ago about Robert and her trying to get pregnant, but failing. That is how I came into the picture. Well, for Robert, I was nothing more than a symbol of his virtue signalling to everyone what a great person he was to give the abused kid a home, but to Melanie, I was her only shot at feeling like a mother. There was no question their inability to get pregnant was due to Robert’s low sperm count and not Melanie’s fertility. I knew that Melanie’s maternal instincts had kicked in at this point. She currently had a strong, healthy, young stud inside her and there was no doubt she would’ve loved to add my excellent genetic code to her equally spectacular one. This brought up a number of issues.

Was Melanie currently under the control of her hormones? No question, everything about her wanted a baby at this moment. Her brain was currently pumping her full of chemicals that would make her obsessed to feel my seed flooding her, but what about after? Would she still feel the same after the chemicals wore off? If I did get her pregnant, what would that mean to me? Would I want to make this woman I love pregnant? Would I demand to raise it or would I want Robert to? What would happen if I left Melanie pregnant and Robert didn’t want it? What would happen to Melanie? What would happen to my baby? So many questions, but none of that mattered, because I too was doped up by the release of my own hormones and propagating my genetic code was a very powerful aphrodisiac. Besides, I was already ruining his wife’s hole for him, what a better ‘fuck you’ for kicking me out than to leave a little reminder inside his wife for him.

I picked up my pace, as I felt my balls rise, the tiny muscles in my groin adjusting to build up the first of what would be many loads. “I’m cumming!” I roared, as I hammered away on her little thighs, until I felt the first twinge, the electric signal that fired across the synapses of my brain, down my spinal column, into my testicles, contracting my muscles in succession as my abundant seed ripped down the length of my urethra and like a cannon, exploding from the barrel into the confined space at the back of Melanie’s vagina.

Focused on my ejaculation, her deep love for me and the desire to be bred by me, Melanie was triggered into another orgasm when she felt the first heavy blast splatter against her insides. Fueled by my own desire to sire a child within her, I adjusted my position so that my head pressed firmly against her cervix where I would pump the remainder of my seed. If Melanie was fertile, her cervix would be open right now and my sperm would not have to make the difficult trip up her vagina and into her cervix before it closed or they died. No, if she was fertile, I was currently basting her egg in my essence.

I collapsed on top of Melanie as the final spurts of cum shot into her. I wrapped her in my arms and held her close, supporting most of my weight on my elbows I had tucked underneath her. We lied there motionless for what seemed like forever as my cock would twitch sporadically, in it’s death throes, as it fought to the last to empty any remaining seed into her. Even as I grew limp inside her, I was deep enough to avoid being pushed out and that suited us both just fine. When we had regained enough composure, I was able to hold her to me in one arm and use my other and legs to work us both onto the bed to lie side by side. Melanie, at 5′ 1″, was so much smaller and petite than my 6′ 3″ broad frame that I’m sure it would appear criminal as she lied curled up against me clinging tightly to my embrace, my greasy snake sleeping soundly in her tiny little body. After about twenty minutes of just lying there, enjoying one another in the peace and quite of her marital bed, she spoke.

“I’m fertile.” She said softly, kissing my arm tenderly, trying to snuggle even closer.

“I figured you were.” I responded. “Is that what you want?” I asked, inferring her desire to get pregnant by me.

“I don’t know?” She said. “I mean, I’ve thought about it a lot with you.” She added. “I guess the better question would be, ‘Did I plan this’, and the answer would be, ‘no’.” She said, kissing me and stroking my arm again.

“But is this what you want?” I asked again.

“Yes.” She whispered, unsure of how I would take it, but rubbing her belly where my cum was currently at work. “Did I want your baby, David?” She asked, turning her head, but not her body, preferring to keep my thickness inside her where it belonged. “Yes. There is no other man’s baby I’d rather have.”

Despite the caked on saliva on her face, I leaned down and kissed her deeply, to which she returned equally as passionate. We broke our kiss and returned to our caresses.

“Robert’s kicking me out.” I reminded her.

“I know.” She said solemnly. “And I want to come with you.”

My heart filled when she said that, but at the same time, I knew it was folly on her part to suggest it. I gently cupped her breast, running my fingers across her skin. Her nipple reacted to my touch, reaching out toward my palm in the hopes I would not neglect it. As my cock began to grow within her, I bent her over in our spoon more so I could reach down to kiss her shoulder. Melanie sighed as she felt the stirrings of life from my manhood beginning to swell once again. She reached down between her legs and began massaging my balls, expediting my return to erection.

“Mel, you don’t really mean that. I have nothing to offer you.” I whispered to her as I began rocking my hips, causing just the slightest of movement in and out of her.

“Oh, fuck, I love that.” She moaned as she rolled my heavy balls in her dainty fingers. “With any luck, David, you’ve already given me the greatest gift in the world.” She responded, referring to her hopeful pregnancy.

“Ugh. Shit.” I grunted as I began picking up speed. “If I got you pregnant… God, you’re so tight… I wouldn’t want it to go without. Urgh. Urgh. I’ve only saved up enough for me.”

“Can we talk after? Yes. Yes. Yes. Just cum in me again.” She asked, her hand over her tummy feeling my length pushing up into her.

“Yeah. After.” I agreed, reaching with a free hand to play with her clit while I kept working her nipple.

Since Melanie was my first, I had no idea just how in synch our bodies were with one another, but Melanie did. To me, it was just really great sex, better than what I imagined it would feel like, but for Melanie it was altogether different. She lost her virginity before she went to college and had been with a few guys before she met Robert. While it was fine for the most part, it wasn’t until Robert that she had been with someone long enough for each other to understand one another’s bodies. It was clear to her, that we were different and had I been with others before, I would know precisely what she was feeling. We were connected in a way she’d never felt before and it had nothing to do with my dick size, although that didn’t hurt. No, just our smells, our touch, our chemistry was perfect, as if we were made for each other. In a matter of a few minutes we were both cumming again. After a we had both calmed back down, Melanie, still with labored breath, spoke.

“Do you believe what I told you earlier when we first came in here?” She asked.

“What?” I answered, my mind still reeling from nutting twice in the woman of my dreams.

“Do you remember what I told you?” She asked again, “I meant every word of it. I am yours.”

“Yeah, I think I remember.” I said, desperately trying to recall what it was she said exactly. “I thought that was just, you know… talking dirty.”

“Hahaha!” She laughed. “Well, it was, but I meant it, David. I meant it as soon as Robert told me he was kicking you out. The reason I wasn’t myself was because I was afraid you wouldn’t want me.” She became very still. “Do you want me, David? Do you want your whore?”

I didn’t say a word, but instead proceeded to fill her with my third load that morning.

After we finished, Melanie finally pulled her aching, used cunt from my pole. The plop of my thick head exiting her gaping hole was audible. She giggled and gasped at the void it left behind before sliding down my body to begin the process of cleaning my gentalia with her mouth.

“I will be a good slut for you, David.” She cooed seductively as she worked herself around my meat, licking and sucking up the massive amounts of jizz and girl juice that was forced out of her during our sex. “What am I, David?” She asked, in a sweet little girl voice. “Tell me what I am, please? I need to hear it.”

I placed my large paw on the back of her head, forcing her into my groin. “Less talk, slut. More clean.” I ordered. Melanie moaned loudly as she eagerly performed her duty.

By the time she had finished licking me clean, she had made a wholly different mess all across the bed and herself. I had filled her up so repeatedly without pulling out and having left her gaping, she had leaked cum all over the duvet and down her legs. When I asked her about the mess, she simply said it was Robert’s side of the bed and not her problem anymore. We laughed.

“Would you like me to wash you in the shower, my love?” She asked, her content face laying on my lap, my limp cock laying across her cheek, casually kissing and stroking it.

“You really do like serving people, don’t you?” I smiled, looking down at the absurd image of Melanie with her new favorite ‘stuffed animal’.

“Mmmm, no, not people, just you.” She slid off of me and the bed to head to the master bathroom and start the shower, her gait was a bit off as she found it a little harder to walk now. Before she entered the bathroom, she stopped in the doorway and looked back at me. Sticking out her tight little butt, she slid a hand down her back, between her cheeks and said, “You forgot one.” Then she disappeared into the bathroom. God, I loved that woman.

When the shower was at the right temperature, she returned to the bedroom and led me into the bathroom. She took her time washing me from toe-to-chest, as I was too tall for her to effectively wash any higher. While in the shower, she got down on her knees and proceeded to suck me off. She was too beat up to skull fuck, but that didn’t stop her from getting a third of me in her mouth and jerking me off with her hands. Once I had emptied myself into her mouth, Melanie looked up into my eyes, while holding my cock against her face, covering one of her eyes and told me ‘Thank you.’ I was a bit taken back by that, as it was I who should’ve been thanking her, but it dawned on me that she was trying to teach me something here.

Given what I knew about her giving personality and the way she seemed to like how I used demeaning titles for her and now her saying ‘Thank you’ for blowing me, I knew she felt that service was a privilege for her. She was teaching me about herself, about how she wanted to be with me, but also teaching me how she wanted me to be to her, without insulting me by coming out and saying it. She wasn’t looking for ‘thanks’ because in her eyes, she wasn’t doing me a favor. I was doing her one by allowing her the opportunity to please me. I realized this was what had been missing from her marriage with Robert. She would’ve given him the world and probably did all the time and it wasn’t ‘thanks’ she was seeking, it wasn’t even ‘I love you’s’, it was simple praise for a job well done.

I looked down at her there, kneeling before me, still paying homage to my cock. She smiled up at me from beneath my manroot and she didn’t look like that 32 year old woman I had just shot several loads into. She looked so innocent, so youthful as she knelt there. There was only one thing I could do. I reached down and stroked her cheek, to which she nuzzled against thankfully.

“Good girl, slut.” I smiled.

Melanie looked so pleased with herself and so grateful that I picked up on her signals. She spent the rest of the shower washing herself from beneath me. Completely content to be small before me, like a cub who plays beneath her mother’s legs, oblivious to the world because here she feels safe.

We finished our shower and she dried me off. I told her to dry off and get dressed and meet me in the kitchen in thirty minutes. I went to my room and got dressed. Then I pulled my checkbook and a journal from my nightstand. I had a shitty suitcase when I had arrived at the Henson’s, but Melanie had made sure to upgrade me with a couple new ones. I pulled both of them and proceeded to load them up with my personal belongings. I never wanted for much, because I spent half my life without much and it made packing everything I wanted to take fast and easy. Within twenty minutes, I had my entire life in two suitcases… Well, almost my entire life.

To be continued…

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