Dinner Is Served

"You're very… Very… Well … Endowed, Nigel!" she managed to say as she slid out the floppy but still massive weight of his prick and the corresponding large testicles. "Has anyone told you that?" She looked straight up at Nigel's face above her.

Nigel's face was contorted by the battle still going on in his mind. "My last girlfriend used to say she'd never seen one any bigger."

"Well, Nigel. I've seen a lot of cock in my life. A lot of fucking pricks I can tell you. But I've never seen a prick like this before. How come your girlfriend's not still with you?"

"It just didn't… you know… she was… it was a while back… Hey! What are you doing with your teeth?"

Zoë didn't answer this time. She was far too preoccupied in running the large thick meat of Nigel's cock in and out of her mouth. God! It tasted good. Just like a piece of meat should taste. Hot. And firm. And twitching. And so much of it. With that strange smell that gave it an odour which really switched on her juices. Oh God! Oh God! She seized the waist of Nigel's trousers and pulled them and the underpants down below his knees, while stretching a hand up up up his smooth muscled torso to the hairs of his chest. Nigel's prick was responding. Getting bigger. And stiffer. And harder. The glans was shining as the foreskin pulled all the way off and a trail of saliva drooped like a washing line between the glans and Zoë's lower lip.

Zoë pulled herself up onto Nigel's chest, rubbing her nipples against the fabric of his short-sleeved shirt. The shirt buttons slid over the perspiration of her skin. "Come on big boy. Off with your clothes!"

"I'm sorry? I mean. What do you think…?"

"Shit! Stop fucking moaning and get on with it!"

Weakly and defeated, Nigel undid his shirt and pulled it off, while below Zoë pulled his trousers and underpants off, and (because she really hated the sight of it in porn films) she made sure his shoes and socks were also off. And then, when Nigel was good and naked, and his prick standing proudly out from the centre of his body, swaying slightly from its own weight and majesty, and only then, Zoë pulled off her knickers so that she was totally naked. Her short trimmed crotch waiting and prepared for Nigel's invasion. She stood back to admire Nigel. Fuck! What a dick! She wanted it in her. And she wanted it in her now!

"Come on, Nigel! Give it to me!" she commanded.

"What? Here? In the kitchen?"

"It's hot and ready! We'd don't want it to go off the boil do we?"

Zoë needn't have worried about that though, as became obvious in the next few hours. What fucking planet did Nigel come from? Wherever it was, Zoë wanted to go there. Not only was his prick so fucking enormous that it almost tore her vagina apart, well practised though it was by Esther's fist and fingers, but it just stayed big and hot and thrusting and willing. It just never seemed to give up. And as Nigel became less concerned with decency and more with passion, it just went on and on. Pounding and pushing into her. That prick just went on and on. Zoë soon lost count of the number of times she'd come. Well, as she'd got to learn, there were so many different flavours of orgasm, and those you got with a man were often those strange moaning, whimpering ones, often bypassing the G-spot and the clitoris and just swelling out the inner cavities.

Zoë didn't want to lose Nigel. She knew what Pauline and Noelle would do if they caught a glimpse of a dick like Nigel's. It'd be in their cunts as quick as you could blink. After just quarter of an hour of kitchen pumping, Zoë facing the breakfast table, while Nigel fucked her from behind, not in her arse of course (it probably didn't even cross his mind to try), but in that weird angle that was only possible when a prick was good and hard and your cunt was just juicy but not so totally wet that things slid out. Then, sweat running down her neck and pasting her eyelids, she grabbed Nigel's still erect prick and guided him out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, or the one she shared with Esther, and the two collapsed on the double bed that dominated the room.

And then it went on. Fucking. Screwing. Screeching. Occasionally pausing. Collapsed in each other's arms. But not for long, until the incorrigible Nigel was up and going and back in the welcoming recesses of her cunt. Slap. Slap. Slap. Zoë moaned. And groaned. And sighed. And shrieked. And still it went on. Was there any way that Nigel would stop? Most men couldn't keep this kind of fucking going on for much more than half an hour. And usually once they'd released their come (usually deep inside her), the fun was over just when Zoë was just beginning to get to the next stage in her abandon and passion. But not this one. In fact, Zoë wasn't at all sure whether Nigel had come at all. She didn't pause to wonder what this might mean for his feelings for her. In fact, she wasn't sure she really cared. Nigel was her fuck toy. And for as long as he fucked her, he was the best toy a girl could ever hope for.

"Hey, Zoë! We wondered where you'd got to!"

Zoë arched her head behind her, Nigel astride her and still pushing away into her bruised, battered and still willing vagina. There was Pauline and Esther, naked, arm in arm, no strap-on dildos now, and a glimpse of Jane and Martin fully clothed in the frame of the doorway. "Hi there, Esther," she said weakly. "I just got carried away."

"And I can see why," remarked Pauline, regarding the semi-erect penis that had been snatched so rudely out of Zoë's vagina by Nigel's embarrassment at being found out. "Fuck! If I'd known I wouldn't have let anyone else get their hands on my man. Hey Nigel. What say you we finish our date together?"

"Shit, man!" suddenly remarked Martin who wandered in, leaving Jane standing at the door. "If I'd known I'm sure we'd have stayed a bit longer. But we don't want to miss our taxi. Fuck! That's one big dick! I'm real choosy with the dicks I'll go for, but that's one I'd make a definite beeline for."

This remark clearly alarmed Nigel. He jumped up and raced out of the door past Jane who watched his swinging penis as it went by with wide-eyed fascination. "My clothes!" He gasped. "The kitchen!"

The next thing Zoë saw was Nigel running back past the door down the hallway, fully clothed. He briefly poked his head through the door. "I've got to catch the last train!" he gasped, and the next sound was the flat door slam behind him.

Zoë, Pauline and Esther watched Nigel's frenetic activity with incredulous silence that lasted perhaps another twenty seconds after the door had closed. Then they burst into hoots of laughter.

"Did you see his face?" chortled Esther.

"Martin, you bastard. You cunt. If you hadn't said that we'd have had a real piece of meat to finish off our dinner," said Pauline with laughter that belied the aggression of her words.

"Well. I was only speaking the truth. Wasn't I, Jane dear? After all, I must be the only guy who had no dick this evening. And the only girl too, seeing's I've dipped my piece into every sushi dip this evening 'cept Zoë's here! But you've had a real boner to contend with, haven't you?"

Zoë smiled. She'd wanted cock. And she'd got more cock than she could ever have hoped for. And all from one guy. And no sharing, either. And now, when the last of her guests had gone, and the taxis weren't going to be that long in arriving, her repast would be completed with the love and affection of Pauline and Esther in the sweaty, disordered sheets and blankets of her bed. And not just love and affection, but fists, fingers and long stiff rubber.

Zoë smiled. She could hardly wait till her next party. She and Esther would begin planning it before the sun rose and the weekend began. But she wasn't sure whether she'd invite Nigel along. In fact, she wasn't sure whether he'd even come to the party. Or even, on reflection, whether he'd even come at this party.