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A Mans Decision 2
by Emile
2009. This is a work of fantasy. You should obey the laws of your juristiction, ie consensual sex between adults.
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Oh boy, things have amped up a bit since the piercing shop. After the guy had done the deed, skewering my tongue with an excessively thick bolt that Rob had chosen, my tongue was numb for days. I should have know, but Rob wasn't one for abstinence, and on the second day of not being to fuck my mouth, he ordered me onto my bed, buck naked, to take his pussy plugger up my hole. I was humiliated, stretching my sinuous body out on the white sheets like a slut, grabbing the headboard tight so my body was stretched out and he could grab my hairy thighs, fold me over and begin forcing his blunt leaking head into my virgin pucker. But I was also hot for it, and Rob knew that, using his abs to mash my own leaking cock against my belly as he thrust in deeper, making me spurt dollops of precum as he hit bottom, stretching my cornhole wide around his flanged fleshy root. He got into a steady fucking rhythm, hard thrusts, where he pulled out until just the bulbous head stretched my ring, and then plunging full hilt again. He called me a bitch and whore as he thrust, mauling my nipples and punch fucking my hole until I yelped and moaned. After a dozen thrusts, my sphincter was in overdrive, and I shot my load all over my hairy chest, my arse clenching sending Rob over the edge, who filled my gut with his cockspew. It was the best fuck he'd had, he said, so I should get used to putting out regularly. That meant, even when my tongue recovered and he began facefucking me again, he still plugged my sore hole at least twice a day.
By now Rob had basically moved into my flat, so when he woke with his piss-hard, he could use it to piston fuck my hole, sometimes lining me up while I slept so I would awake screaming with his first piercing thrust. He'd fuck my hole raw for 20 minutes, no more lube than spat out of his cockhead, until he shot his load, and then I had to clean his stinking cock up, before he sidled off for a piss, cock smacking his thighs, leaving me to clean up and jump in the shower. I wasn't allowed to cum while he fucked me, which was hard, my cock was always twitchy and leaky the whole time, so I jerked off like a bronco in the shower, slaking off the mixture of juices before hauling on my work clothes for the day. I pleaded for him to go easy on my arse, which was constantly red and sore. I hated the puffy gaping lips that were forming around my hole, and could barely move without feeling pain shoot up my innards. But it was like he wanted me to feel my fuckhole constantly, and so the sessions got longer and longer, until there was no time for showers and jerk offs.
One day, he just finished the fuck by sticking his funky juiced up dork into my mouth, still streaked with cum and arse slime, fucking my mouth while his thick tool softened, and then unloading his bladder with a groan, pumping litres of hot piss down my throat. I choked and spluttered but he forced me to drink it, until he pulled out of my sloppy mouthcunt with a pop. I barely had time to recover before he pulled some sweats up over his thick poker, threw me some clothes and told me to dress - that I'd have to go to work as I was. Since then, that became the pattern, and I had to scramble to haul on my gear as Rob gunned the engine to drive me to work. And of course, he was pretty careless with my clothes, so some days that meant going to work not only cum streaked and sweaty, mouth tasting of piss, but also wearing clothes I'd not be caught dead in only months before. Wifebeaters and torn jeans were his favourite.
Then one day, he didn't bother to throw me a jock, so his cum would leak straight out of my hole and stain the dark denim. In the car I begged him to turn back, that the other tradies barely spoke to me as it was, but he just laughed, undoing the top fly button and wrenching it off in his paw. It meant when I got out, my jeans dropped low on my thighs, revealing tufts of my pubes when I walked, and a fair bit of arsecrack. At least, he said, this way the cum would leak down my legs instead of into the material. The guys ignored me after that, and Rob made sure never to give me jocks again.
During the day, Rob would always swing by the site to bring me 'lunch'. Lunch of course was his packed lunch stretching his fly, so I had to bob down on his cock in the car while he fingered my hole, making me buck and suck harder. Somehow I got through the afternoon, my cock straining the front of my jeans by now from the pent up fucklust, so all the guys could see the plum head pushing out the denim. A few guys commented 'lucky chick' when they saw it, but when they saw Rob hanging around, their comments turned nasty. I'd gone from studfuck to jailbait, and despite my brawn, it was becoming harder and harder to hide my secret.
Rob wasn't much interested in hiding it either. Although the guys had guessed he was fucking my arse, they treated him just the same - after all he was just giving it - even giving him my beers when he turned up in the afternoon to pick me up. I had to sit in the jeep, kneeding my hard cock through my jeans as I waited, while he drank beer and palled around with them, telling them fuck knows what about me. Whatever it was, while they didn't lay into me, I became the dogsbody at work, doing the shit no-one else wanted to, not even the apprentices. At 35, I was carting boards in the blazing sun until sweat clung to me like a sheet, and crawling into the tightest claustophobic holes.
Night was no different. I was ravenously hungry by then, horny and tired, but Rob decided the man of the house has to be satisfied first. Rob would eat whatever the fuck he wanted, often his friends coming over for pizza and beers, and I hovered in the background, like a housewife. I don't know what he told them, but they ignored me too. When he was done, I could wolf down whatever scraps were left - my only meal of the day I'd rush to eat, clean up and shower while he dicked around with internet porn or went out on a date with some random chick, so I could be ready, naked, legs spread wide, for him to come home and plough me at night. I had to wait like that, sometimes for hours, only to have to scoot off the bed and hide in the cupboard if he brought home the chick for a fuck. If not, it was my arse on the line, and my only relief was the orgasm from my twitching dork as he plugged me for the second time that day.
Since I was now his to play with, Rob decided I should look more hot for cock. He said plenty of hot jocks have their tongues pierced, not to mention the guys with barbells through their nipples or Japanese yakusa tattoo sleeves on their arms. I guess that's what a TV series can do. Anyway I wasn't up for being inked or marked, I guess I drew the line at my tongue, but once he knew he could push me, Rob wasn't going to stop at that, and soon I was sporting both. I could still pull it off as masculine at work, I thought, until Rob came home with his next great idea. "You know what would be really sexy" he said, resting one hand on my head so he could scratch the hairy pit - "I think you'd look hot with one of those mini mohawks. You know, just a thin strip of hair down your skull, like a snatch. But you know, you're blonde and all, I think you need more contrast, so I bought this hot pink hair dye as well. Go on mate, how about we do it now? I'm sure we can find somewhere to use the leftover dye..."
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