It had been another terrible night. Her husband had had too much to drink and had turned nasty. Again.



After wolfing down the dinner she had prepared and served him, washed down with more of the scotch that he had been drinking steadily since his arrival home from the office, Greg pushed his chair away from the table and unfastened his trousers.



"Get over here, you cow," he slurred. "Let's see if you can do something with that mouth besides flapping it to your bitch friends all day long."



Tori rose dutifully. She smiled, pulled back her shoulders and crossed the room, giving her hips an exaggerated roll. Her large breasts swayed seductively, shifting sexily under the silky red dress she had purchased that afternoon. She stopped in front of her husband's chair, placed a hand on each of its arms and slowly leaned forward at the waist. Her breasts flowed over the top of the bra, her nipples clearly visible through the low-cut dress. A few strands of her auburn hair fell loose, framing her heart-shaped face. The expensive perfume she had applied liberally to her body rose from her deep cleavage. She was an alluring, sexual invitation that most men would have found irresistible.



But not her husband. "Where'd you learn that little routine, Tyra?" he sneered. "Get to work."



Tori knew better than to protest. She started to pull down his trousers and boxers. She couldn't help noticing the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that rose from his body. She drew out his penis, limp and clammy, and began to massage it.



"Come on bitch, you know what I want. Give it to me if you know what's good for you!" Greg yelled. He grabbed her shoulders and thrust her head down sharply towards his crotch. Her knees smacked down painfully on the hardwood floor. She took his still limp member into her mouth, trying to ignore its gamy taste, and began to suck gingerly.



"You useless twat! I ought to kick your ass right out of this house." Tori grimaced inwardly but upped the tempo of her ministrations. Greg continued to berate her but as his cock began to fill, his jibes and insults gave way to garbled gibberish and moans. As she pumped her mouth up and down, she looked around the room – the beautiful, expensively furnished dining room of her beautiful, expensively furnished home – and wondered for the millionth time how things had gone so wrong.



She had been married to Greg for a decade, though on nights like this it felt like a century. For a while, they had been happy. But in recent years, Greg had become more obsessed with his work and increasingly uninterested in her. He had begun to drink and his behavior became increasingly abusive. At first, Tori thought it might be another woman. But it was simpler than that, she realized. He seemed to get some charge out of knocking her around, then using her as a receptacle for his cum.



Tori could feel Greg finally reaching full erection. She dreaded what was coming and increased her efforts but Greg pulled out of her mouth and stood unsteadily before her. He began to fondle himself.



When she had first slept with Greg, she had told him, after relentless questioning, that he had the biggest penis of any of her lovers. Truth be told, all had seemed about the same size and had felt about the same inside of her. However, Greg reveled in his status as her "biggest" and it didn't hurt to feed his ego. Lately, it had become a necessity if she didn't want to feel his wrath.



"You love it, don't you bitch? You love sucking my big dick, don't you? Biggest you've ever seen, huh?"



"Yes, Greg," she answered.



Greg continued to stroke himself. "You love my big dick, don't you? Don't you? You know you want it. Say you love it!"



"I love your dick," she replied.



Even though it wasn't the first time, the slap to her face was shocking. "Say it like you mean it!" he growled. Reaching forward, he grabbed the front of her dress and yanked it hard, tearing out the bodice. Her right breast cascaded out of her bra exposing her nipple, which Greg caught between his fingers and pinched brutally.



"Beg for it, bitch!" he yelled. "You know you want it!"



The pain was instant. Tears welled up and she began to gasp what he wanted to hear.



"Oh Greg, I love your big dick! So big! I need it! I need it!" Greg stroked faster, caught up in his approaching orgasm. Tori, realizing she was almost home free, regained her voice and continued. "So big, so big, so big! Give it to me, please!"



The final exhortation did the trick and Greg shot a thin stream of cum into Tori's hair and face. He collapsed back into his chair and, in moments, was snoring. Tori turned off the light, mounted the stairs to her bedroom. She removed her ruined dress, letting it drop in a heap on the floor, and began to weep. Not about the dress – she could buy a dozen more tomorrow and Greg wouldn't know or care. She wept for herself, trapped in her beautiful prison of a home, victim of the man who had promised to love her but now only brutalized her.



+++



The next morning, Saturday, Tori sat by the pool in an old bikini top and loose tap pants, enjoying her solitude while Greg slept off his drinking. The pool was her favorite part of her home. She had laid it out herself – Greg couldn't be bothered about such things – designing the decking, landscape and decorating the pool house. She was now adding the final touch, a walkway and patio of rough-hewn stone. While ostensibly for relaxation and entertainment, Tori planned on using the pool house as an escape from her husband on those nights where his temper got dangerous.



She heard a vehicle approaching and from her vantage point was able to see a battered truck pulling up to the front of the house. She recognized it as belonging to Mr. Welch, the contractor. She padded quickly up to the driveway, not wishing for the delivery to wake Greg.



The truck was driven by a young man, tall with dark hair and eyes, whom Tori had seen working on the construction before. He backed up along the service road toward the pool and got out.



"Good morning, Mrs. Anderson," he said.



"Hello... I'm sorry but I don't remember your name." Tori replied.



"That's okay. I'm Tom. I'm just going to unload the last of the stone that we're using at the pool so we can get an early start on Monday. Shouldn't take more than half an hour or so" he smiled.



"That's fine, Tom. Let me know if you need anything," Tori said and returned to her magazine.



Tom pulled open the back of the truck and began to unload the paving stones. Tori watched out of the corner of her eye. The magazine suddenly seemed a lot less interesting as the young man set about his task.



Tom was dressed in a faded blue tee-shirt and thin cut off sweat pants that had been washed so many times that they were practically colorless. It was a hot day and the strenuous work of hauling the stones soon had him perspiring freely. Tori watched as he hoisted the slates, carried them down close to her chair and stacked them in neat piles. She hadn't noticed when they were talking but he had a wonderful body and as he lifted the stones and lowered them into place, slabs of muscle leapt along his back, arms and chest. At one point, he paused and pulled up the tail of his shirt to wipe his face, revealing a stomach and upper pelvis that looked as hard and carved as the stones he was carrying.



Tori couldn't help thinking of Greg's pasty, pudgy body. The comparison was striking but not as much as the other realization that began to creep into Tori's mind. Watching this beautiful young hunk work, his large, round biceps expanding and contracting, thick ropes of muscle bunching across his shoulders, -- it was all making Tori hot. Very hot.



The late morning sun had heated her skin and covered it with a dewy sheen but that had nothing to do with the warm dampness that seemed to be spreading from deep inside her down the soft juncture of her thighs. During Tom's next trip to the truck, she quickly dipped her hand beneath the band of her shorts, running two fingers back and forth along her sex. She began to gently play with herself – self-pleasure had been her only outlet for a long time now – and was quickly lost in a reverie until the sound of Tom's returning footsteps startled her and she barely had time to pull her hand out of her pants, the band catching for one heart-stopping moment on her wrist.



"Mrs. Anderson? I'm just about finished and..." Tom stopped abruptly. A quizzical look crossed his face. Tori could not miss his eyes sweeping her body, lingering for a moment at the very spot from which her hand had just retreated.



"Yes, Tom?" She asked and sat up in her lounge. It was at that moment that she discovered what had diverted his attention: in her haste to pull out of her shorts, she had hiked one of the baggy leg openings up over her lower abdomen. She was mortified to see that her pussy was almost completely exposed, glistening in the sun.



"Uh, I was just wondering if I might take a quick dip in the pool?"



She was grateful that he chose to act as if nothing were wrong. "Why of course, Tom," Tori answered and took the opportunity to cross her legs, ending the show.



"Thanks," he said, allowing himself another long gaze at her body. He turned away, pulled off his shirt, work gloves and sneakers, walked to the edge of the pool and dove in. He surfaced about half way across, shook the water off his thick, dark hair, and began to knife through the water in long, powerful strokes.



"What are you thinking?" Tori said to herself. "Let this go". But the heat she felt growing within her would not subside. She had seen the way he looked at her, something raw and bold glinting in his eyes. He liked what he saw.



She watched Tom easily complete lap after lap of the pool, flashes of his arms, torso and legs dancing before her. She began to imagine what it might be like to feel that body, to test the mass of those muscles, to run her hands down that gorgeous, hard chest and abdomen.



"I wonder what he looks like completely naked? I wonder what his cock is like?" The thought jumped into her mind unbidden and she shuddered. Not in fear but in an emotion she hadn't experienced in a long time. Anticipation. Sexual excitement. Pure lust broke over her like a sudden summer storm.



She saw Tom hoist himself from the pool and quickly rearranged herself on the chaise. She pulled up the shorts so that her long, shapely legs were on display from hip to ankle. She let the straps of the bikini top slip down her shoulder to reveal the expansive slope of her breasts, the cups just covering her aureole but not disguising her prominent nipples. She tilted her head over, feigning sleep, her oversized sunglasses masking her still open eyes.



Tom stopped a few feet away, bent over to grab a towel off the ground. The old cut-offs, saturated with water, emphasized his butt's tight contour. He draped the towel over his head, blotting off his hair vigorously and turned back towards Tori's chaise. Her eyes took in his torso, following the line of his stomach muscles down past his navel, to the top of the cut-offs. She dropped her gaze further. What she saw made her world grind to a halt.



The cut-offs were plastered to him, so thin she could see ridges of muscle on his upper legs. Down the left side, from a bunchy pouch at the crotch, the fabric strained to contain something so big and bulky that Tori first thought that he must have his work gloves crammed in his pocket. But as he drew closer, there could be little doubt as to what was hanging heavily down the inside of his thigh. The worn out cotton clung like an obscene second skin to a thick, fleshy pillar bulging half way to his knee. She could actually make out a plump vein running its length and the flaring rim of the bell-shaped head.



Butterflies flitted through her stomach, alighting on the swampy marsh below. A gnawing pit opened in her depths, like hunger pangs. But it wasn't food she was hungering for.



"I guess he likes what he sees," Tori thought. "At least if that big dick is any indication". She was caught short: What would Greg think of his "big dick" if he saw Tom's huge hard-on? "Some big dick, Greg," she imagined herself saying. "More like Little Richard." The joke came to her so unexpectedly that she laughed out loud.



"Have a funny dream?" he asked, smiling.



She rose from the chaise and stood inches away from him.



"Yeah. You were in it".



Reaching up, she placed one hand on each side of his face and drew herself into him, pressing her lips against his in a long, probing kiss. She ran her fingers through his hair, down his neck, around the smooth granite of his shoulders and upper arms. She draped her arms there and kissed him again. He didn't resist.



She swept her palms down his stomach, stopping when her fingers met the top of his cut-offs. Sliding under, she moved her hands outward around his flanks, stretching the waistband. Slowly, she moved her hands down, the worn-out material providing little resistance as it peeled away from Tom's body. The beautiful musculature of his abdomen tapered down to a thatch of hair. Tori rolled down the shorts a bit further, stopping just above the broad root of the torpedo-shaped bulge. As the crotch of the shorts pulled away, his heavy sack juddered forward, balls swollen like full, ripe fruit under a thick bough. She eased the shorts lower, then lower. With a final tug, she pulled the shorts below his knees and the cock was free, massive, bobbing slowly toward the ground below. Tori spoke in a throaty voice that she barely recognized as her own.



"Does it hang like that because it's so... so..." She asked, long past the point of being embarrassed. "So big? Too big to stick out?"



Tom smiled and said nothing.



Tori reached forward instinctively, her actions ahead of her understanding. She wrapped her hand around the base – she could barely encircle it; a long hunk and the bulbous head protruded from her loose grip. Surprised by its sponginess, she lifted it up -- God, it was heavy! Like it was filled with wet sand -- and the thick, exposed length flopped solidly over the edge of her fist. She let go; the cock slapped down against his thigh with a resounding thud. The realization hit her like a thunderclap.



"Oh my God! You're not even hard..."



He silenced her with a strong, probing kiss that made her knees weak. As their tongues explored each other's mouths, Tori slowly kneaded Tom's heavy semi-hard cock. She swirled her fingers around base to tip, finishing with a sweep of her palm across the broad head. With each stroke the meaty column grew larger, swelling rapidly against her grasp and extending out and upward. She marveled at the size, the sheer mass of it. She wrapped one hand, then the other, around and slid her two fists end to end. They didn't come close to covering his length. Her fingers could no longer reach around, the dense girth barely yielding even when she squeezed tight. She reached under and gently milked his balls, so big and engorged that they felt as if they would burst from their tight, smooth sack.



"Come with me" she said.



Tori lead Tom through the entry way of the pool house, into the cool recesses of its large sitting room to a broad, white sofa. She sat down on the edge facing him and shucked off her sopping tap pants. Planting her hands behind her, she slid back gracefully on the broad seat of the sofa.



She felt his hands stroking her thighs and hips, his mouth pressed gently into her neck, then trailing kisses across her chest and down her side, dragging his tongue around the curving perimeter of her breast. He traced circles inward, crossed from her golden skin to her wide, rosy aureole. His mouth roamed over to her other breast, now nibbling slightly as he went up the firm mound to her magnificent nipple. He ran his tongue around it, pursed his lips and sucked it greedily into his mouth. Tori groaned in pleasure as he sucked harder, drawing in a mouthful of her firm flesh, then slowly pulled his head back until her breast popped free. His face brushed slowly across and found the other swollen nipple waiting for his attention. He began to suck and Tori gripped handfuls of the sofa as a new wave of pleasure swept through her.



Tom stroked Tori's thighs, then brought the heel of his hand to rest on the soft fur just above her sex. He pressed down, rotating his hand slightly, as he began to suck Tori's breast. She felt a surge of energy shoot from her straining nipple deep into her abdomen. His hand slid down to her lips, found the swelling hardness at the cleft which he deftly roll under his palm. Then he gently eased a finger between her lips. They were soaking and his curving finger easily slid around and into her. He continued to roll his palm while he worked his finger up and deeper in. Tori gasped, felt her body shudder. She reached up and behind him, let her hands explore the smooth curve of his butt, then brought them around to the front. She found the base of his cock and slid her hand along its length. It felt like thick velvet wrapped around solid oak. She shifted up onto the couch, lifted her hips, her thighs spreading as she pulled him forward.



"Please", she rasped.



Tori felt the broad head press against her sopping opening. Sharp fear welled up next to the volcanic heat -- would she even be capable of taking so much? She squeezed her eyes shut, forced herself to breathe. She sensed herself opening up a little, her lips parting, then stretching, stretching more, stretching wider than she thought possible. She felt Tom begin to gently burrow into her. She was keenly aware of a pleasant friction and a growing electric tingle coming from where their bodies joined and a throbbing that resonated deep into her belly. There was no pain, or maybe just an instant of it as she became aware of places that had never been touched before bursting alive. Her thoughts became disconnected; she imagined herself the pool outside, a wake of silky water plumes split by Tom's tan body. A locomotive roaring through a pitch black tunnel, the bright white light of its lamp gleaming off the damp, shiny walls. A pile-driver relentlessly pounding a stout post into the yielding, moist ground. She felt impossibly full. She opened her eyes and gasped. Tom was still poised above her, half the length of his veiny cock bulging outside her dripping, distended lips.



"No more," she moaned. "Please, no more".



He started to pull back slowly. Tori felt her pussy sigh, as if reluctant to let go. Then Tom smoothly slid forward, deeper into Tori than before, back out then in deeper still. He held himself up easily, swinging his hips forward with each stroke. The tingling was now a roar of electric energy and a gush of new sensation, exploding, wet ripples coursed through her. Her entire body began to shake as she came. Then she came again. And again. Each more powerful than the last, each new convulsion overpowering the aftershock of the previous one.



Tori was bathed in sweat and her breath came in great heaving gasps. Nothing in her life mattered but the expectation of the next deep stroke of Tom's mighty cock. She tried to speak but could barely force out the words.



"No...ooooh... oohhhhhh.... More. Ooooh... More. Please. Give. Me. More..."



She clasped her legs around his hips, pulled herself in to meet him, felt his bull's balls bouncing against her solidly. She could hear the hiss and gurgle of her flowing juices squirting out of the tight seal between her lips and his huge, hard dick. He reached down, grabbed her ass with both hands and pushed all the way in. She felt him pressing against a spot so deep in her that she had always thought it was her secret place, unreachable, unknowable to anyone else. She felt another orgasm coming, different, more powerful. She feared it would shatter her. She began to scream as the orgasm engulfed her.

