From between her legs came a sudden CR-ACK! CRACK! SNAP! The vibrator stopped abruptly. Panting from the orgasm, she pulled the vibrator free of her body. The outer cover had not split, or she might have been badly shocked, but she had . . . CRUSHED . . . the sex toy to half its usual diameter . . . .
Oh, well, shoddy American workmanship, she thought. Holding it out in front of her in two fingers like a dead fish, she walked to the wastebasket and let it drop in. "I'll just have to get a new one," Soleil thought.
DING-DONG!!!! went the doorbell. Hmm, maybe I won't have to get a new one, she thought.
DING-DONG!!!
"I'm coming . . . I mean I'll be there in a minute," she shouted. Twenty minutes, she thought. He must have run every light in town. . . .
She pulled her jeans back on quickly. The first thing she found was a flimsy pink pullover pyjama top, very sheer. It would have to do, no time to look for anything else.
DING-DONG!!! "I'm COMING, dammit!" she called, running downstairs. Look in the mirror. Hair OK. Face--a little flushed. Smile. Look sexy. Here we go:
Door opened, and there was Edward Furlong, just as she remembered him. A few years older, though. He was wearing a leather jacket. "Hi, Soleil," he said. His voice had gotten pleasantly deeper since the last time she had spoken to him.
"Come in, Eddy," she said. "Take your coat off, get comfortable." He threw it on the couch. "Want some wine?" "Sure," he said. She couldn't help noticing that his eyes had nearly popped out when she had opened the door. He hadn't taken his eyes off her chest since. Well, no wonder, this top is practically see-through, she thought. It felt good against her skin, too, and the feel of it on her nipples made them feel as hard as diamonds. . . ."Here you go," she said, handing him the wine. "Thanks," Furlong said, in a noticeably shaky voice, still staring at her immense rack. Soleil dropped to the floor and crawled to the CD shelf and the stereo, and put on a recording of something slow. She made a point of rolling her hips a bit as she did it. Just a little. From Furlong's point of view he could see right through her top, could see her huge round breasts hanging gracefully down almost six inches from her torso, her nipples stiff. He took in an involuntary breath of air. When she turned away for a moment, he reflexively rubbed his aching crotch. Just once. She got up again and faced him.
He swallowed most of the wine in a single gulp. "Did you, um, get implants? Or did you start, um, developing again after you had the. . . .I mean, I couldn't help noticing that your, um, that you've, um . . ." She smiled and took a big sip, just to get the taste of it. Furlong drained his glass in one big gulp. A little wine dribbled down his chin.
Soleil put her glass down and took his wine glass out of his hand. "You've got a little on your chin, Eddy," she cooed. "Let me take care of that for you." She stepped over and . . . kissed the wine off of his chin, slowly, slowly working up to his mouth. . . .
Furlong may have been a bit of a dim bulb, but he wasn't a total fool. He began kissing back--and not hesitantly either. He kissed her passionately, desperately, like a drowning man gasps air. Off came her flimsy pajama top. He cupped her breasts in his hands as she let her head fall back, her dark brown hair falling away from her body. With a finger stilll wet with wine he traced circles around her stiff nipples. He lowered his head to the level of her chest. With both hands he guided one of her breasts to his lips. She gave out a whispered moan as her began to suck her nipple. Then the same caresses to the other breast. Then he put his head between them, inhaled her perfume, and then gently rubbed them rhythmically against his face
He stood up, passionately kissed her, and then picked her up and carried her up the stairs. She guided him to her bedroom, she stood at the foot of her bed. Off came his EVERLAST t-shirt. He guided her jeans and panties down off her hips, inserted his middle finger inside her moist, eager cunt. She maneuvered him around so that his back was to the bed, and he fell back, bouncing just a little. Off came his shoes and socks (quickly!) then she (slowly!) unbuttoned his jeans and then worked both jeans and briefs down his legs. Off they went, onto the flooe with the rest of the discarded clothes, and there they were, both naked, with his ass right at the edge of the bed, his feet flat on the floor, and she kneeling right in front, right there, right there next to it, her mouth right next to it. My God, she thought, his name should be Edward Foot-long! It was enormous, but . . . that wouldn't stop her. From behind all you would've seen is her head, bobbing slowly up and down. All you could've heard was him, moaning, and her, breathing through her nose, going MMMMPPPPFHHHH! MMMMMFPHHHHH! MMMMMPFHHHH! He opened his eyes and looked down, and there she was, and even with both hands wrapped around the root of it, there was at least six inches left for her to SUCCCCCCCCCK and SLURRRRRRRRRRRP as her mouth slowly lowered and withdrew over his hot, red, rock-hard dick. Finally he could take no more and she could feel a river of his hot semen coursing down her throat.
He backed his way up the bed, still on his back. "More!" he said, commanding her sternly. And so, practically aching for it by now, she crept up on top of him, straddling him, and lowered herself slowly, slowly, a millimeter at a time, upon his throbbing tool. She began bouncing deeply upon him, leaning forward, letting him get a faceful of her gigantic bouncing tits, the nipple-circles light-brown and as big across as the top of a Coke can. . . .In a few minutes they came again. "More!" he said . . . but a little more hesitantly, this time.
He sat up, crossing his legs, and she sat down in the bowl of his legs, lowering himself onto him as he held her up with his hands. All he could focus on was the the sight of him driving into her again and again and again like a piston, until they came again.
"More?" she said. This time he only nodded silently. She sat on the bureau with her back to the mirror and drew her legs out to the sides. He stood in front of her and plunged into her, over and over, over and over, as she wrapped her firm, tanned legs around his ass and pushed with her feet, trying to draw him even further into her. They came again. "Eddy, are you OK?" He was breathing heavily. "Sure, babe," was all he said.
And they were at it again, with Soleil on her back at the edge of the bed and Furlong grasping her heels, which were up around his neck. He thrust into her, deeply, over and over, feeling her tightness. It seemed to take longer this time, but she was insatiable. Slowly she drew her knees back until they almost touched her wildly jiggling boobs. The sweat flew off his face, his hair, as he seemed to fall DEEP inside her, and they were through again. "More!" she commanded. Was it her imagination, or did her breats seem to . . . swell about a cup-size or two just before her orgasm, only to return to "normal" after they were done. She got up and turned around. How many times was this? She'd lost track. Her forehead, her neck, her chest: covered in sweat. Furlong as well: covered in it, making his whole body glisten. She turned and got on her hands and knees, presenting him with her round, pert buttocks. She could feel the mattress give as he knelt behind her. Slowly, slowly, he inserted his cock into her throbbing, still-eager cunt. Over and over he sank into her moist depths. She had been right about her breats, she thought. She could see and feel the orgasm coming on, and the tips of his nipples were now hanging down, just grazing the edge of the blanket. They felt enormous--and he was reacking around to softly rub his hands over them--or as much of them as he could reach, anyway. She orgasmed, with this latest seeming as intense, if not better, than her first. She could feel him withdraw from her. She heard his heavy breathing. She straightened up. "More!" she commanded, turning over to flop on her back, her immense breasts flopping out to her armpits in two incredible rounded waves of white, each topped by a giant brown nipple. "More," she said again, spreading her legs.
"No . . . more! No . . . more" Furlong gasped horsely. "I'm . . . (long pause here) . . . dry. Totally."
"I know what you really want, Eddy," she teased him. With one hand on the outside of each breast, she rhythmically rubbed them together, enticingly, sweat glistening betwen them, her nipples erect. With his eyes seeing nothing but her enormous cleavage he crept on top of her, straddling her chest. Her head went back, her long dark hair cascaded back off the side of the bed, her chin pointed up at the ceiling. "Fuck my tits! Fuck my tits, Eddy! You KNOW you WANT to! You KNOW you WANT it!" Oh, now this was power! Furlong was a shuddering WRECK by now, and he still couldn't STOP himself. She smiled as he inserted his throbbing tool between her giant jugs and began rhythmically sliding it between them. Over and over, OVER AND OVER, her tits glistening with her sweat, over and over in circles around his giant, thrusting COCK! He moaned! He MOANED! He MOANED and finally shot his last load of thick spunk all over her neck . . . her face . . . her massive, massive nipples. Slowly he sank back onto the back and just lay there, drawing breaths.
Soliel got up. She was covered in it. She made her way across to the doorway to the bathroom. "I'll be back in just a minute, lover," she said, in a low, seductive voice. She washed her face, sat on the throne to pee, then took a quick shower, letting the hot soapy water run all over and in her. It was amazing how only a few hours of fucking could make your whole body GLOW, she thought. She felt fresh and ready for more--another ten rounds. She stepped out of the shower, dried her hair with a towel, then ran a comb gently through it.
"Eddy, baby, I know you liked it, baby, but this time, could you please try not to come in my hair?"
No answer.
"Eddy?"
<"Eddy?"
"EDDY?"
Soleil walked out of the bathroom. There on the bed was Edward Furlong, naked, spread-eagled, smiling weakly, his eyes looking unblinking up at the ceiling. Stone. Cold. Dead.
Trembling, shreiking, Soleil ran from the bedroom and down the stairs, into the kitchen. She ran over to the phone and started to dial, then put the receiver back down. She was looking across the room at the closed pantry door. Where she had hidden the pills.
She crossed the room and pulled the pantry door open. She fumbled with the light and looked at the label, skimming down until she found the part she wanted:
"DANGER! Users of this product may experience increased and uncontrollable sexual desire. Nymphomania is to be considered a common side effect. Although product users are at no health risk, users should inform sexual partners and potential sexual partners of the risk of (skimming down) myocardial infarction, stroke, aneurism, cerebral hemmorage. . . ." Soleil let the bottle fall from her grasp. She walked back to the phone. She dialed the number of Melissa Joan Hart.
"MELISSA! YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME!!! I'VE JUST FUCKED EDDY FURLONG TO DEATH!!!"
What next for our heroine?
Fri Nov 24 12:57:41 2000