Mr. Wallace and Me Pt. 01-05

Another plunge, and his cock seemed to pop open a barrier in my bottom. I felt so incredibly filled up. I jerked my body, but his hand on my face kept our lips joined. He was breathing hard right into my mouth, my chin on my bare shoulder as he started to pump his dick into me slowly, going farther with each humiliating thrust.

Then ... suddenly, he pulled out of me. I felt empty, but so relieved to have that monster cock out of my body. He eased my body off the chair and turned me to face him. He was huffing and puffing a bit as he kissed me rapidly several times, each kiss seeming to drain me of my resistance as his hands moved all over my body. Involuntarily, in my surrender to the huge old man, I was making little girlie noises with each kiss.

Finally, he paused and leaned back, his hands holding me by my bare back. He leered at me, trying to catch his breath.

"I own you, you stuck-up little cunt," he said as his greasy fingers ran back and forth lightly over my collarbone. "I turned you from an arrogant, lazy shit boy into a beautiful woman, and you know what, it wasn't hard, was it?"

I couldn't answer, even if I wanted to, because he pressed his lips to mine and left them there, his tongue slowly overpowering mine as I surrendered yet again. It occurred to me that the miserable, fat prick was right. It hadn't taken much to make me feel more like a woman than a man.

Almost without me noticing, he slowly pulled the apron string from my tiny waist right off the apron as he kissed me. His strong, fat hands moved to my sensitive shoulders and squeezed and caressed them as I stood there shimmying slightly in abject surrender, accepting his kiss, moaning softly and leaning in to him. Eventually, his rough hands moved down my smooth arms and settled on my narrow wrists. Before I realized it, he began tying my wrists together with the apron string. I looked up at him in surprise as he tied a tight knot around my wrists..I felt so helpless as my wrists in front of me struggled hopelessly to free themselves.

Mr. Wallace's smile was confident, evil and eager, the flab of his putrid body moving up and down as he threw me roughly onto the bed. My apron clung to my slender body as I lay on my back. His eyes took me in, his lust evident as his massive body covered me. He was so heavy, it was hard to breathe. His body odor and breath repulsive, his hands grabbing, caressing, his teeth attacking my neck, shoulders and breasts, all as my wrists were tied in front of me. He was breathing hard as he got on his knees on either side of my writhing body and tied the other end of the apron string to the headboard, forcing my arms helplessly over my head and pulling my slender torso even more taut. As he leaned forward, his fat, smelly prick brushed against my lips as I started to sob quietly..

He was almost totally out of breath, but managed to get out two words:

"Suck it."

Tears are welling in my eyes as he put his smelly cock at my lips. The odor is almost unbearable as the strong, musky, sweaty odor of his thick, pulsating cock makes me gag even before he puts it into my mouth. I open my mouth and he slowly puts his blood-engorged organ between my lips. His thick, gray pubic hair in my face, he thrusts into my mouth.

"That's it, princess," he says, "suck that old cock."

Mr. Wallace grabs my hair with both hands as he starts fucking my mouth. I struggle against the apron string, but it's no use. His cock is so thick that my lips are open about as far as they can go. I start to gag as his dick rams the back of my throat.

"Yeah? You like sucking Mr. Wallace's cock? You like this, cocksucker?"

I didn't answer. I was getting into a rhythm, sucking this old man's penis. I was concentrating on that.

Finally, he pulls that massive organ out of my mouth, leaving a thin trail of my saliva from the tip for a moment. He sat back, breathing hard, his huge, hairy belly heaving, looking down at me.

"It's your own fault, Bill, for being so fuckin' gorgeous," he said. I noted that he used my masculine name, the more to humiliate me. I begged him to untie me and let me go.

"You know," he sneered, "I might consider that ... if you didn't have a hard-on."

It was true. To my eternal shame, my little penis was hard and at its puny 4-inch maximum length.

"You want this," he said. "You want me to fuck you."

I was crying now.

"No!" I say as loudly as I can. "I hate you, you fat prick. Let me go."

He just stared down at me as tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Please," I pleaded softly between sobs. "Please let me go."

"You don't mean that," he said. "You really don't."

As if to prove it, he bent down and kissed me. After struggling for a few moments, I moaned softly and began kissing him back.

With that, Mr. Wallace sat up and roughly put my feet onto his hairy shoulders.and pushed my thighs back with his massive chest and belly. Without warning, he plunged his thick cock into me to the hilt. His huge, old cock is so hard as pulls almost all the way out and slams it deep into me, knocking the breath out of me, the pain incredible.

He grinds into me, slamming into me again and again. The pain slowly begins to subside. My legs slide off his sweaty shoulders and attempt to wrap around his waist, but it is too big to get around. My thighs are spread wide, his weight overwhelming as he plunges into me again and again. My little penis is rubbing against the apron material, trapped under Mr. Wallace's massive belly. His breathing now is incredibly loud, his belly weighing me down. His mouth attacks my neck and shoulders, nuzzling, nipping, kissing, his hands squeezing my little breasts. My little hips begin to start moving, responding to his thrusts as his fingers brutally squeeze my already-sore nipples.

He keeps fucking me, his breathing becoming louder and louder, sweat dripping from his face and neck onto me, his prick filling my tight canal, his weight ponderous as I'm moving my hips and squeezing my little bottom's muscles. I'm exhausted. My body goes limp. His hands move to my torso, and his mouth captures mine in a long, tongue kiss that I don't resist. My little penis, trapped between us, is getting close to orgasming..

His face is very red, sweat pouring off it, his breathing so hard.

"Damn," he says, "you're ... such ... a ... good ... fuck."

Strangely, it felt good that he would say that.

"So beautiful," he says, breathing hard as he continued to ram into me again and again. "I never fucked anyone so beautiful. I'm going to fuck you any time I want."

His giant hands grabbed my face as he kissed me roughly. His breathing louder than ever, he arched his back. His cock seemed to grow even bigger inside me. His eyes rolled back in his head as he made one last plunge into me. He screamed as his cock ripped into me harder than ever, gushing his old man cum into my no-longer-virgin bottom.

Mr. Wallace's elbows landed on either side of my head, and his massive body collapsed on top of me. His 6-foot-4, 300-pound body covered my 123 pounds from head to toe and more. I felt so girly and feminine, an unfamiliar pride in turning on a man enough to make him cum. His cock still hard inside me, I squeezed my butt muscles a bit around his cock. It felt good. I guess he had hit my prostate. I almost came ... but not quite. My wrists were still tied above my head, and Mr. Wallace was very heavy. It was a little hard for me to breathe.

"Mr. Wallace," I said timidly, "would you please let me up now?"

There was no answer. I tried to move him off me with my body, but it was no use.

"Mr. Wallace?"

I figured he had fallen asleep after he came.

"Mr. Wallace?"

Then it occurred to me ... I couldn't hear Mr. Wallace breathing.

"Mr. Wallace!" My voice was shrill and terrified.

"Mr. Wallace, Mr. Wallace!

He was face-down on top of me, seemingly not breathing at all. With a lot of effort, I was able to nudge his face to the side by shimmying my shoulder so I could see him. His expression was stupid. His mouth was open and drooling, his eyes staring ... unblinking ... unseeing.

Mr. Wallace was dead.

I screamed like the girly girl that I was. I absolutely panicked, trying to free my wrists from their bounds, crying, wailing. My thoughts were illogical, irrational. I thought how my lovely, slender body, my pretty face and long, luxuriant hair were all trapped under a vile dead man. A dead man I had killed. I cried for a long time. Even as I loathed the feel of Mr. Wallace's dead flesh on me, I wondered if it would be my fate to die like this, under a corpse, with no one likely to come to the house for days ... maybe weeks.

Then, I remembered Mr. Drummond. He said he would be here at 4:30, didn't he? I looked for a clock in the bedroom. There was one on the far wall. It read 2:47.

I tried to calm myself down, but I was still trapped, my wrists tied above me, and I wondered if Mr. Drummond would keep his word. He's a very busy and important man. Maybe he'll just blow it off and not show up. The thought terrified me, and I tried to put it out of my mind. I relaxed my body, my eyes following the second hand of the clock, wishing it would move so much faster. The minutes ticked by, oh so slowly. I looked again at Mr. Wallace's ugly, unseeing face. I hated him. I hated him more than any other human being I had ever met ... and now, he's dead.

The bastard ... he had turned me into a girl ... his girl. His was the first cock to ever be in my mouth. He had taken my virginity. What was it about this grotesque old man that had made me want him to kiss me, to make me dress and feel all girly for him? I was ashamed to notice with these thoughts that my slender, circumsized penis was stirring, still trapped under Mr. Wallace's huge, heavy belly. Meanwhile, his thick cock was still inside me. I managed to move my hips an inch or two, and his prick nudged my prostate.

I couldn't ... Oh, I just couldn't, could I? I began to rationalize. I had been taken advantage of for this horrid man's pleasure. I moved my hips again. A wave of pleasure swept over me.

But I couldn't ... I mean .. I couldn't be fucked by ... by a corpse ... could I?

My penis was growing harder with the friction under the cute apron. My wrists tied above me, I was feeling helpless, pretty and trapped under this terrible man. I moved my hips more ... and more. I looked at Mr. Wallace's horrible face next to mine. My hips moved more and more. Mr. Wallace's cock felt so good inside me. My breathing became rapid, my penis feeling full and ready. I was close ... so ... so close. I moved my face two inches closer to Mr. Wallace's as my passion built. I could smell his awful odor. His prick hit my prostate again ...

And I kissed him.

I kissed a corpse. I moaned girlishly. My lips pressed against his open mouth, my tongue playing with his unresponsive one as my little cock escaped the apron and erupted with a torrent of cum against Mr. Wallace's hairy belly. My slender body was wracked with my orgasm as I saw every color imaginable and cried out helplessly into Mr. Wallace's putrid mouth.

It took me minutes to recover, and when I finally did, I thought I was going to vomit. My revulsion was overwhelming. What kind of person was I? I just had sex with a corpse.

A corpse!

The clock ticked by so incredibly slowly. 4 o'clock ... 4:10 ... 4: 15 ... Finally, it was 4:30 ... and to my horror, no Mr. Drummond.

"I'm going to die here," I said out loud, panicking again. It was 5:15, and no one was going to rescue me. I would die a horrible death. I started to cry. My sobs wracked my body, and to my shame, I felt Mr. Wallace's prick again rub against my prostate. I hated myself. Maybe I deserve to die like this.

Then, I heard loud knocking at the front door ... and then Mr. Drummond's voice from the living room:

"Ted?" he called out. "Where are you? Billie ... are you here?"

I took a deep breath and called out to him as loudly as I could under Mr. Wallace's weight. A few moments passed, and there was Mr. Drummond walking into the bedroom.

I was going to live.

(End of Part 5 ... to be continued. The author welcomes comment via the CONTACT tab on his profile.)