The Bradshawshank Redemption

Hey all, I haven't posted a one-shot story in a while. Don't worry, I'm still tapping diligently away on all the serial stories, but thought it might be nice to take a little break. I hope you all enjoy this! Please let me know via my Literotica contact page!

*****

I'm an old-fashioned sort of girl. A lot of people don't believe it because I look so much younger than my thirty-eight years, because I have thick pouty lips that beg for sinful acts without even parting, because of my insanely ample chest that clocks in at a whopping 29 inch L cup. But what they don't realize, is that I've never been one to wander, proud to have been in a committed relationship with Martin since we were sweethearts in High School. From our first two-straw shake to the pride of my life, our two identical twin daughters, everything I ever wanted was always right around me in life or under my own roof.

Or so I thought.

It all started with Annie Bradshaw. We were old friends from the neighborhood and when she turned up on our doorstep at six in the morning we didn't know what to make of it. She had clearly been bawling her eyes out, and while Marty was grouchy to let her in, he gave her hand an affectionate squeeze and let her sit in the kitchen with me, we sipped coffee together.

"I'm so sorry, 'Becca," she sniffed, "I really am. It's just that Scott's in trouble. The big oaf, my little baby, got picked up by the police last night for taking a baseball bat to a few mailboxes. They're not going easy on him. There's talk of invoking all those federal statutes for interfering with the mail over it!"

"Annie, I don't blame you for being distraught, that's terrible! What would possess him to do such a thing?"

"Oh he's just a boy, really. I mean, I know he's eighteen, but I think ever since he helped his team sew up the Apple Bowl he's just gotten a little too full of himself. After the homecoming stuff I think there was no where for all that ego to go so he's channeling it in all these awful directions. But he doesn't deserve to go to jail, not for being a stupid kid!"

I put my hand on her arm, "Ann, dry your eyes, I think we can help. Let me go talk to Marty a minute."

She blinked, she really had just come here as a friend, not to use my husband's status in the community. That's what made me want to help her, Annie has always been there for us, and knows we're always there for her. The fact that we really could help hadn't even crossed her mind.

I hugged her and told her I'd sort it out.

Later that night, I had Martin's big fat six inch cock buried in my mouth, working my neck, fondling his big grape-sized balls as I bobbed my head. I've only given three blowjobs in my whole life, so he knew something was up even as he groaned and moaned his way through it.

"Okay Rebecca, what do you want?"

I paused, wiping a slurpy strand of drool from my lips with the back of my hand.

"I want you to go to bat for Scott."

"Like he went to bat on those mailboxes?" he chortled.

"Yes! He's just a stupid kid, he doesn't deserve federal prison for this."

He groaned, tugging at himself a bit in the absence my mouth.

"Becca, I'm a Pastor, not a lawyer. What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to get those pictures of Police Chief Garret's daughter getting baptized developed, go over to his house, talk about the potential you see in Scott and how you'll take responsibility for getting him back on the right track."

He groaned again, this time less from lust and more from what sounded like annoyance.

"Okay, fine, on three conditions. One: You have to actually be the one straightening him out. I want bible-study every night until he can tell us the good-Samaritan's donkey's name. Two: He helps out around here. I want the lawn mowed, the pool cleaned, the gutters snaked and anything else you can think of. Three: You get back to sucking your husband's big dick and when he cums you swallow this time."

The first two were easy enough, I liked prying apart scripture, and it would be nice to spare Martin some of the hassle of stupid chores that were beneath him. But as for the third request, I had never swallowed semen before and I was a little scared at the prospect. Still, I dug deep, I thought about poor Ann crying her eyes out in my kitchen, about how good it would be for my soul to help a wayward soul like Scott, and how a wife should be subservient to her husband in all things and plunged down. And hey, at least once he came this would be over!

I know it's not like women are supposed to enjoy sex, but I still couldn't help but feel like Martin wasn't doing something right in bed. I never felt much and it was always over so quickly. To hear other girls at talk church, sometimes sex went on too long, sometimes it was exhausting, and a few of them would even tell with blushes that sex could make them feel like the Whore of Babylon; sinful as all get-out, but, well, good.

So I bobbed my head, being careful not to go too far since I knew if I tried to suck him all I'd gag and used my hands to carefully rub and squeeze his balls, the wet sloppy noises getting louder as his moans got more hurried. Finally he cried out the terrible thing he always cries out when he cums,

"I'm Loving! Oh god, Rabecca, I'm LOVING all down your throat!"

I shuddered. I'm sure all men must say that when they orgasm, but it always just sounded strange to my ear somehow.

I swallowed hard, fighting not to throw up as the spraying droplets of white splattered into my mouth and down my throat, it was salty and acidic and the after-taste brought tears to my eyes. But I'd done it. I'd kept my promise. Now Martin had to keep his.

It was a few days later when my life changed forever. Martin was staying late to help organize the choir and liturgy readers for the upcoming Easter Sunday Service. This was always a huge day for us, not just because of the biggest collection-plate we could anticipate, but also because it involved serious work to make sure everything was perfect for all the Easter-and-Christmas Christians who would darken our door for the first time that year. So I was alone, reading and allowing myself my one vice, a single glass of red wine per night when the doorbell rang.

Curious, I crept to answer it and peeked through our spyhole. There was Scott! I hadn't seen him up close in a few years, though I'd certainly gotten to watch him make some incredible throws and runs on the football field when I attended games with Ann. He was somehow even bigger on my doorstep, a strapping six-foot-six that towered over me and even Martin's six-inch frame. He was dressed in his letter jacket and a a t-shirt that looked just a bit too small stretched across those athletic pectorals and flat stomach. There was something off about the fit of his jeans too, though I couldn't put my finger on it. Little did I suspect I'd eventually be putting my whole hand on it instead.

I opened the door for him and he ran a hand through his playful jet-black hair, flashing a cocky grin filled with straight white teeth at me.

"Hey Missus Parson, I'm here."

"Yes, come in Scott. Do you know why you're here?."

He looked a little embarrassed, though some instinct told me his modesty or shyness were at least partly a show. He was still definitely a bit full of himself even though he knew he had a part to play. Well that was alright. A bit of humbling work, a bit of bible-study, these were things that would help take his false humility and turn it real.

"I'm here because me and the guys went a little too far the other night and busted some stuff up. Parson Mayfield agree to take the heat for me a bit if I'd help you guys out."

I shrugged, aware for some reason of the massive sway of my ludicrous bosom. I hadn't been expecting the company and I was dressed in a manner I would describe as comfortable, but immodest. My legs and ass were clad in simple yoga pants, tight and comforting they should off the flawless shape I had to offer and curved out to accommodate my unusually round ass. My breasts were braless at the moment, I'd enjoyed the chance to be free of those confining cups while Martin wasn't around and the huge pair strained the fabric of my sleeveless shirt. I flushed a bit, aware that he was definitely staring a bit at what I was presenting to him.

Best to get that nipped right in the bud!

"Come in and set your bible down, Martin. We'll need it later, but for now you can start with our rain gutters!"

He made a little bounce on the balls of his feet and nodded, "You got it, missus M!" I stood aside, letting him enter. Not only did he set aside the bible, but hastily stripped off the letter jacket as well. It surprised me that he chose to do so in the autumn cold, but it treated me to my first view of those biceps. They were incredible discs of muscle, thick and veined despite the overall tautness of his young skin. My heart leapt, Martin had never been the brawniest, of course, and what did that really matter, but I couldn't help marvel at how much coiled power he seemed to have at his command.

I pointed him to the tools and ladder he'd need and excused myself to dress in something a bit more conservative. Now I was at least making an effort to conceal my humongous breasts in a shapeless, frumpy dress. Why The Lord had seen fit to curse me with the body of Jezebel I would never know, but I would be damned if I let the devil use me to tempt the very young man I was trying to set straight. I was about to learn that he wasn't the one that needed to be protected from temptation.

I was greeted by an utterly incredible and baffling sight when I emerged from the bedroom. Scott was up on the latter attacking the gutters, working away to clear the dead leaves, putting his thick muscular legs right in the center of our living room window. Framing him further from there, the gap between the top of the ladder on the highest step was directly around his crotch which drove the breath from my lungs. I boggled and ogled and stared and might have even drooled a little at the appearance of all that meat, tightly packaged in underwear, the unmistakable bulge of his young member sliding down one leg of his jeans, hanging down...down...down. It wasn't possible but it looked like the damned thing didn't even until his knee.

That just made no sense. I didn't realize I was fondling my own breasts with both hands until I looked down with a blush, and that's when it occurred to me that if The Lord had seen fit to endow me with more breast than most women, then some men would be similarly blessed (or cursed depending on how you look at it.) But I couldn't accept what I was seeing still. Martin had always assured me that he was particularly well endowed, yet fully erect you could have fit his entire penis twice into the length of what was clearly soft young member. I realized how long I'd been staring and tore my eyes away, forcing them between the pages of the bible. I tried hard to concentrate, but realized I was reading the same passages over and over, eyes just wishing they could be back at the window.

I don't know how much time had passed, but soon he'd put the ladder back and come in the front door, a little sweaty but smiling.

"Those gutters are so clean you could eat your dinner out of 'em Missus Pastor!" he boasted as he came to stand awkwardly in the living room.

"Oh thank you, Scott. Sit down here and I'll get you some lemonade. Open your bible to ummm..." I thumbed my bible to a random page, "Ezekial, 23, verse 1."

I was still just thinking of his insane bulge as I got one of our taller glasses.

He's longer than this I thought as I put it on the table.

Still as I fetched the pitcher from the fridge.

He's longer than this too! I stared at the pitcher as I poured the lemonade.

I'd have probably had to go out to look at the rake he'd been using to find something long enough to challenge his manhood for sheer size, I just couldn't wrap my brain around it. Surely the Bible would save me.

Wrong again. We read along, I helped him parse some difficult passages, teaching a few new words, helped him to understand the significance politics in the middle-east played in shaping how much of it was written, but when we got to verse 20 I just froze... it's a passage in which a prostitute reminisces over her long life of sin and it says the following:

Ezekiel 23,20: She lusted after her paramours, whose members were like those of donkeys and emissions were like those of stallions.

"What's a paramour, Missus M?" Scott asked.

"A uh, um, a lover, Scott."

"Okay... and these lovers, what were they members of? Is this like some kind of lover's club?" He pressed on.

"No, um, in this case members, it's not members of a club. It means, uh..." I looked down accidentally glancing at his penis again. "Penis." I finally managed.

"Oh!" He blushed a little, but grinned despite himself.

"And uh, emissions? Like for a car?"

Inside I groaned, Lord why were you doing this to me? Was this a sign? A test? Was I just supposed to go with this?

"It's uh, it's referring to how they ejaculate. Like, with a lot of sperm. The point is that she thought the Egyptians were very virile!"

"Oh. Missus M?"

"Yes Scott?"

"I think I might be Egyptian."

This was the moment. The choice. I could be pure like the Virgin Mary, or, give in to everything tugging at me from my lust to my natural curiosity, I could be like the whore of Babylon. The line was clear.

Something snapped inside me and I was going full whore.

"Why is that, Scott?"

"I've got a real big, uh, member, Missus M. Like a donkey easily."

"It's disrespectful to lie in a Pastor's house, Scott."

Now he fixed me with a gaze, all serious. He was no innocent, no matter what he might pretend, he knew he was big.

"I'm not lying."

"Well it's not as if you can prove it."

He stood straight up then, unbuckling and unzipping his jeans with practiced ease, then he was hauling that great beast of a cock out, it seemed like it would never end as he kept pulling more and more of it out of his pants, letting it drop with commanding authority as it's weight made it swing back and for a little. He folded his arms, his expression one of flawless confidence. The thing hung down over a foot if it was an inch, and it was DEFINITELY at least an inch.

I made a genuflection over my enormous bust and gasped.

"Oh, oh Scott, that could only be a tool of the devil." I stared at him, taking it all in.

"So why do you think the chick from Ezekiel remembered those lovers so fondly, hm?" Scott sneered down at me.

"I... I don't know, Scott." I was flushing, breathing more shallowly, what was this boy doing to me?

"Why not? Pastor Mayfield not like me?"

That was understatement to say the least. I'd always thought my husband to be very well endowed, but I'd only seen one other penis in my whole life and that was while it was soft. The first time I saw Martin grow to six inches I thought he was enormous, that his big penis put him in the same league as my big breasts. It made me feel hollow in my chest to be confronted with such ample evidence to the contrary. I traced the length of that member up and down with my eyes. You could have put two of Martin's cocks side-by-side to be as thick as this thing, and more than two end-to-end lengthwise. The hollow feeling only grew more pronounced as he seized himself by the base and shook it a little, demonstrating the sure floppy-softness of it.

I was suddenly very aware of my nipples; they were diamond hard and pointing through my frumpy dress, visible despite the bulky fabric and poor fit, pointing like a pair of accusing fingers at the object of my lust. I wanted to try this penis. I wanted to play with it and feel it and see how it felt inside of me even though some part of my inner recesses were panicked at the very thought of trying to accommodate such a monster.

"Scott, I think you should go." I said.

He just smirked and hooked his thumbs into his waistband, lowering his pants more to reveal his strong thighs and an obscene sight between them, a pair of balls the size of grapefruits were pendulously dangling. Unlike Martin's his had no trace of hair and bulged powerfully in that leathery-looking back.

"Do you?" He asked. He had me.

"No." I whimpered.

"You've taught me a lot about the bible tonight, and I'm grateful for that, Mrs. M." As he spoke he slowly moved closer to me, putting that irresistible sight nearer and nearer to my face. "And I'm grateful for that. I want to teach you some things in return. It's clear to me you've never been properly fucked in your whole life, and I want to teach you just what sex can be."

"Watch your mouth, Scott!" I trembled as I said it, the last traces of my resolve draining away.

"You watch my mouth." he countered, moving in to press that handsome face to mine lips-first. His kiss was sweet, his lips young and firm, his jaw skilfull in the way it moved, making me feel somehow like the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, especially when his tongue slipped into my mouth. I could only retaliate by doing the same back to him, my smaller mouth-muscle tracing his cheeks and lips, body starting to burn up in excitement.

My nipples strained and my tits throbbed to be touched, handled, relieved somehow by contact and he did not disappoint here either, his instincts guiding those big foot-ball catching mitts right over my huge bra-bombs, mauling and rubbing them in a different direction every second, fingers strumming across my engorged nipples like instrument strings.

I pushed him back long enough to shed my dress, baring all for the incredible stud, from my trimmed pussy to my gigantic, oh let's just call them what they are, TITS. My big huge shirt-ripping, button-popping globes of weighty titflesh, my humongous fat tits, my sin-inspiring monster-sized jugg-jiggling tits. My tits, my tits, my tits.

Now it was his turn to gasp, apparently I was the most he'd ever seen too and he wasted no time in bending to suck away at my engorged nipples, rubbing and grinding his face all over my boobs, not caring how his mouth and tongue moistened them and in turn got his face wet, he was just a man moved by the spirit, a spirit that really wanted to suck on a whopping pair of huge tits.

I could not be completely idle in response. I grabbed his monster dick and tugged it up, astounded at how high up his chest I could get it though it was still soft,

"Oh Scott!, your penis is so big!" I gasped as he kept flicking a tongue across my nipples pressed together.

"It's a Cock, Mrs M."

"Your cock. Your big huge heavy scary beautiful cock." I breathlessly acquiesced.

"Mm that's right. Why don't you suck it?"

"What?" I blushed, I wanted to, but some part of me didn't want to admit it. He straightened me right out on that, cupping my chin in his hand he turned my face up to look directly in my eyes. He spoke again, his voice an octave lower this time, rumbling with power and heavy with lust. He used my name for the first time ever.

"Rebecca, suck my big fat monster cock."

I didn't even have to kneel, I just bent at the waist and stuck his huge dickhead into my mouth, lewdly slurping on it, curling and uncurling my lips around his flanged glans, swirling my tongue, poking at his cumslit with it. The thing was so tasty I couldn't help by suck it in deeper, drawing in inch after inch of shaft with my lips, worshipping away at it. I realized with an even deeper flush that I already had as much length as Martin could provide, yet I was still looking at more than a foot of unsucked shaft, he'd grown some as I played with him and while he still had give and was still growing he was now nearly the size of three Martins.

He tangled a fist in my hair, using the other to grab his dick and milk it back and forth into my mouth a few times, "That's real good 'Becca, you've got a hot fucking mouth. I love big dicksucking lips like yours."