Velour Couch

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*****

The sectional furniture was a contemporary rectangular design. Square cushions continued the sharp angular appearance of the one loveseat, chair, and longer couch. It came complete with square ottoman; actually a cube on wheels.

"That is the ugliest fucking thing I've ever seen," Grant Johnson said to his father as the men unloaded it.

Brett looked at the sectional furniture and had to agree. The material was blue velour, a simulated suede. It was too dark a blue to be called 'Sky Blue' and too light to be called 'Royal Blue.'

"Oh well, some little n*gger will love it," Grant said, unmindful of the two large black men that sweated unloading the large truck.

The furniture was placed toward the center of Johnson's Furniture and Appliances, modelled with squat ball shaped lamps to break the stark lines.

The modeling must have worked; it was leased to a young married couple less than a month after Johnson Furniture and Appliances took delivery of it.

The couple was not African-American, as the younger Johnson had surmised, though. They were, however, far too young to be married; he was nineteen and she had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday when they tied the knot.

Johnson's delivery crew carried the pieces up to the third floor apartment and arranged it the way Michelle directed them, in an 'L' fashion. Neither man told the horse faced girl that the furniture was simply too large for such a cramped space.

"Man, how much you want to bet we be back for that shit before three month up, huh?" one of the men said as they wheeled their hand trucks down the stairs.

"How much you want to bet they miss the first payment?" the other man agreed.

"Girl didn't even have the sense put her on some drawers," the first man said. "That's just nasty, pussy all hanging out and shit."

"Yeah, but we know she a real blonde, huh?" the second man laughed.

FIRST HOME

Sammy and Michelle christened the couch as soon as he walked into the apartment. His Domino's Pizza hat was thrown onto the loveseat wing and they lay on the couch section, humping and grunting and groaning happily.

Giggling like naughty schoolchildren, they sat, nude on their new couch and ate the slightly burnt pizza he'd brought home from work.

Then they again humped and thrust and groaned on the couch again.

The following morning, after Sammy had tripped, yet again, over the ottoman, the ottoman was moved into the bedroom

The chair, they both happily observed, was perfect for her to curl up on while sucking his cock. The loveseat, when abutted with the chair, was just the right length for Sammy to stretch out on while Michelle sucked him off to a quick climax.

The couch and loveseat were far enough apart for Sammy and Michelle to sit and sulk after their first argument. He sat on the far edge of the loveseat and she sat on the far edge of the couch, neither one speaking, neither one budging. Finally, silently, he got up and went to bed.

It was the first time that they did not have sex.

Three years later, if you asked Sammy what they had been arguing about, he could not tell you.

The second day, both believing that they were right, they were the injured party, Sammy and Michelle continued the silent treatment.

The third day, Sammy had decided, enough was enough. He was going to put his foot down, she was going to apologize, they would fuck and all would be forgiven.

He stormed up the stairs to the third floor apartment and shoved the door open.

"Oh God yes, fuck me!" Michelle screamed as Roberto grunted, groaned, and thrust his hard cock into her blonde muff.

"What the fuck?" Sammy screamed.

Roberto looked over his shoulder then smirked at the scrawny boy. He did not stop thrusting himself into Michelle.

"Hi Honey, this is my new boyfriend," Michelle said calmly. "Listen, go wait in the bedroom until we're done, okay?"

"You heard her, pussy," Roberto said when the stunned, sickened Sammy did not move. "And close that door, huh? Ain't everybody got to see my ass."

Sammy did not close the door, but he did storm into the bedroom.

Aw, shit no, nuh uh," Roberto said as he heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun shell being chambered.

Michelle was deafened by the roar of the twelve gauge shotgun and did not react when she felt warm stickiness splatter onto her face and chest.

She did not hear the second shell being chambered; she was too busy trying to move the heavy weight of Roberto as he lay on top of her, crushing her.

A neighbor called 911; the police responded and found Sammy sitting on the loveseat portion, not looking at the torn bodies on the bloodied and shredded couch.

He offered no resistance as the officer pulled him to his feet, read him his rights and handcuffed him.

The couch was destroyed. Even if the blood and tide could have been cleaned out of the velour and the foam rubber cushions, the material was shredded by the buckshot; the springs on the abutment end were visible.

The chair had a fleck of Roberto's blood imbedded in the fibers. He had been an unemployed high school dropout that had seen an unattractive blonde girl and smiled when she smiled at him.

Unattractive or not, she offered him some pussy, even though she was wearing a cheap wedding ring. Unattractive or not, married or not, pussy was pussy, and pussy felt good.

Unattractive or not, married or not, she liked to fuck, liked to fuck loud and hard.

Her husband was a real pussy. He came in and saw his wife fucking another man and did not even try to kick Roberto's ass. One look at the little pussy told Roberto he could easily handle her husband. So he taunted the man.

And when his wife ordered him to go into the bedroom while they continued to fuck, her husband did exactly that.

The blood cell imbedded in the fibers remembered the shock and the sick realization that her husband wasn't the spineless pussy Roberto had assumed him to be.

The ottoman had only some sweat from Sammy's shin in its fibers, only memories of an "Ouch! Damn it!"

The chair had some of Michelle's vaginal secretions; she had loved sucking her husband's cock, had loved satisfying him, bringing him pleasure.

The loveseat had some of Michelle's vaginal secretions imbedded in the fibers, along with some of Sammy's semen smashed down into the foam rubber of the cushions. They'd sat on it, nude, munching on microwave popcorn, watching the 'Creature Feature' playing on Channel 26.

Half of a sectional was of no use to Johnson's Furniture And Appliances; Brett just wrote it all off as a loss, quadrupled its value for insurance and tax purposes, and moved on to the next ugly, overpriced sale.

SECOND HOME

Sammy and Michelle's bed went to Sammy's cousin Josh; he was moving out of the college dorm and into his first apartment. His roommate already had a futon and a dining room set so they didn't take the loveseat, chair, and ottoman or the table and chairs from the apartment.

They did, however, take the filthy microwave, gave it a barely adequate cleaning, and used it for popcorn.

The loveseat and chair, when abutted to each other, formed a full couch and Nicole, Michelle's older sister acquired the three pieces for her trailer.

The nearly three hundred pound Nicole lumbered into the room, threw the two pillows and small blanket onto the furniture and then flopped down.

Her heavy heel slapped into the couch and Nicole discovered something that Brett Johnson, and Sammy and Michelle did not; the loveseat had a long drawer.

Nicole pulled it open, shrugged upon discovering that it was empty, and slid it closed again.

"But I can put..." she said aloud and hefted her bulk out of the seat.

She checked that the blinds were fully closed, tilted up to prevent prying eyes, and waddled into her bedroom.

In the bedroom she checked that the blinds, which by now were stuck shut by layers of dust, were still shut, reached up into her closet, and pulled down three long latex dildos.

The 12" black dildo was palmed, held flat against her hip as she waddled back into the living room then dropped into the loveseat's drawer, which was shut quickly.

After darkness fell, and the only light in the Livingroom was from the 21 inch television, Nicole reached into the drawer, shut it again, checked that the trailer's door was securely locked, and then opened the drawer again.

His name was Jermaine, and instead of being disgusted by her bulk, turned off by her lumps of fat, he was extremely turned on.

He was six feet, three inches of ebony muscles and he roughly shoved her sweat pants and full briefs down and jammed his twelve inches of hard black cock into her hairy twat.

"Oh, God!" Nicole cried out as 'Jermaine' roughly fucked her, her sweat pants and panties bunched up around her ankles.

"Aw yeah, aw yeah, you one hot piece of ass; you ain't nothing but a ho, huh? You my bitch? You my ho?" Jermaine grunted as he fucked her.

"Augh!" Nicole cried out as she shook in orgasm.

"Clean my cock, better clean my cock good, bitch, know what I'm saying?" Jermaine ordered as he stuffed his cock into Nicole's mouth.

Satisfied, and embarrassed, Nicole dropped Jermain back into the drawer and pulled her pants and panties back up.

Her slimy pussy rubbed against the velour material of the cushion, imbedding some of her wetness into the foam rubber.

The next day, after Nicole returned from her job at Speedier Oil Change, where she was a cashier, she microwaved herself a frozen dinner and ate on the couch while watching the evening news.

As soon as darkness began, Jermaine came out, and again ordered her to fuck him, ordered her to suck him clean and then he quietly, passively went back into his hiding place.

Nicole felt shame and revulsion as she undressed to shower, cursing her rolls of fat.

In time, Jermaine was joined by his brother, Ramone. Ramone was abusive, vulgar, demanded that Nicole get him good and slick with her pussy juices, and then he would brutally force himself into her bowels while Jermaine roughly pounded her pussy.

Nicole used some spray carpet cleaner to clean the tracks Ramone's filthy cock had left on the blue velour. The frenzied scrubbing motions imbedded more of herself into the foam cushion.

And Ramone demanded her backdoor almost as often as his brother demanded her hairy pussy.

And Nicole would sob in shame; she was very lonely.

A few of the tears dripped into the cushion on the armrest of the loveseat and Nicole's loneliness and shame became part of the couch's memory.

Her mother took an old laptop from work and gave it to Nicole; the ottoman became used to the warmth of the device while Nicole surfed the Internet.

She found a dating site that specialized in BBW, Big Beautiful Women and scarcely believed her luck when some responded to her post. Gary really wasn't attracted to Big Beautiful Women. In fact, the misogynist held all women in contempt. But he found that BBWs were generally willing to overlook his boorish behavior and were usually more willing to give up the pussy. His attitude was 'Why spend a hundred bucks on a prostitute when a fat bitch will give it up for a ten dollar bucket of chicken?'

He was handsome; with long brown hair he kept tied back, bulging muscles and a sweet smile.

Manny's Mexican restaurant cost Gary twenty nine dollars and a few well used lies and the velour loveseat and chair got some new memories. Nicole gave the first blow job she'd ever given and some of Gary's semen dribbled off of her chin, seeping into the plush material.

Gary smiled triumphantly as he alternated between plunging his cock into her slimy pussy and her stretched anus.

Then he got into his pickup truck, and instead of driving to the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, where he told Nicole he was a student, he drove back to Houston Texas to the small apartment he shared with his wife and their three small sons.

To silence his wife's bitter complaints, he gave her the two hundred and nine dollars he'd stolen from Nicole's purse, claiming he'd been on a job.

Because her periods were always so irregular, it was nearly four months before Nicole discovered she was pregnant.

The day after she discovered her pregnancy, Nicole was eating some fried chicken and a small section of bone lodged in her throat.

She gasped and wheezed, she pounded on her chest, and she even reached her fingers into her mouth, trying to get at the bone.

With a groan, she lurched to her feet, hoping to stagger out of the trailer. Hopefully a neighbor would see her distress and help her.

She tripped over the ottoman and crashed to the floor and expired, her spittle seeping into the fluorescent green shag carpet of her living room

When the normally quite dependable Nicole did not show up for her morning shift and did not answer repeated calls to her telephone, her boss called Nicole's mother.

After the funeral, Derek, Nicole's cousin, agreed to take the loveseat, chair, and ottoman, along with the four bookcases and all of Nicole's beloved books.

Third Home

The one bedroom apartment housed three nineteen year old males; two slept in the full sized bed and the third, Derek, slept on the living room floor. He was very grateful to get the loveseat and chair that could be jammed together to form one long couch that he could sleep on.

One of the three males was attending college, but he too was on the brink of flunking out, just as Derek and the third male had done.

None of them worked; living off of their parents and making promises of returning to school, of studying more, of applying themselves.

Derek met Doug outside of Jumpers and spent twenty dollars, the last money his mother said she would give him until she saw some signs of Derek actually trying to apply himself, on a few scraggly joints.

The two sat in Doug's battered Pontiac and smoked both joints, and then the twenty nine year old Doug spotted Derek a few more.

After Doug bought a case of cheap beer, they returned to Derek's apartment and smoked both joints and drank most of the case of beer.

"Man, got to drop a major deuce," Derek said and Doug laughed.

While Derek was in the bathroom, the front door opened.

"Who the fuck are you?" one of Derek's roommates asked as he entered the apartment.

"Fuck you, punk ass bitch," Doug sneered, flexing his massive biceps. "Turn your ass around, come back in and ask me nicely.

"What? Fuck you, bitch, this is my apartment," the youth said.

Doug slammed his fist into the boy's stomach, and then pushed him out of the apartment, slamming the door shut.

"Thought I heard Marvin come in," Derek said, coming out of the bathroom.

"Don't know," Doug shrugged.

Marvin did come back in after he'd caught his breath.

Within a week of meeting Doug, it was just Doug and Derek in the apartment; the other two had endured all they would take of Doug's loud, abusive personality and physical abuse and threats of physical abuse. Because Doug was supplying Derek with lots of marijuana, alcohol, and the occasional pill or two, Derek saw none of Doug's abusive behavior. He sided with Doug against his former roommates and friends.

Derek thought, now that Marvin and Chris were no longer living there, he would take the bed and Doug would take the couch, instead of the two of them crammed together on the couch.

"Nuh uh, fuck that," Doug snapped.

"What?" Derek laughed, uncomfortable.

"Fuck that, come here," Doug ordered.

"What?" Derek said, approaching slowly.

"Bitch, I fucking said 'come here' little cocksucker," Doug snarled and grabbed Derek by a handful of his hair.

Derek struggled as Doug stuffed his fat tongue, which tasted of beef jerky and marijuana into Derek's mouth.

He whined in protest as Doug roughly twisted his nipples.

"We been fine right here, on the fucking couch; we're staying on the fucking couch, hear?" Doug demanded.

"Dude, man, I'm not gay," Derek sobbed.

Doug punched the nineteen year old boy in the face, knocking him unconscious.

"Ever fucking make me hit you again, hear?" Doug sobbed into Derek's ear as he held the boy tightly.

Derek came to, lying on the couch, Doug entwined around him.

"Hey, go on, get my dick good and wet, huh?" Doug crooned into Derek's ear.

"Fuck, man, come on, huh?" Derek whined. "Fuck! I'm not gay, huh? I mean, shit! It was fine, you and me, when there wasn't no room, but..."

"You going make me hit you again?" Doug asked, voice rising in anger. "Huh? You going make me do that? Who the fuck said anything about being gay, bitch?"

Derek protested when Doug pulled his oversized tee shirt off and again began playing with his sore nipples. A very savage slap to Derek's face stilled Derek's protests.

"That's it, come on, baby," Doug crooned as he worked his fat cock out of his filthy jeans. "Come on; kiss my cock, all right? Get it nice and wet, huh?"

Derek sobbed in shame and fear as he did put his mouth over Doug's cock.

"Aw, oh shit, aw man, fuck!" Doug protested as he grabbed the back of Derek's head and forced more of his cock into Derek's mouth.

Derek struggled mightily as he felt his mouth fill with Doug's semen

"Better fucking swallow it, bitch, better fucking swallow every fucking drop I give you, hear?" Doug threatened and Derek fought against vomiting as he did swallow the bitter tasting fluid.

"Aw man, oh that was good; you suck cock before?" Doug gasped, finally releasing Derek's head from his tight grasp.

"No," Derek sobbed.

Doug again stuffed his smelly tongue into Derek's mouth, kissing him hotly, passionately.

"Mmph!" Derek protested into Doug's mouth as he felt his gym shorts being pushed down.

"Aw, you all hard for me, huh?" Doug chuckled as he played with Derek's four inch erection.

"No," Derek sobbed in denial even as he humped his cock against Doug's rough ministrations.

Doug spit on his fingers and Derek howled out when Doug jammed his wet fingers roughly into Derek's rectum.

"Shh, shh, more you fight it more it hurts," Doug counseled, again thrusting his tongue into Derek's mouth.

"No! Don't!" Derek screamed out as Doug twisted him around until his back was against Doug's muscular chest.

"Told you, bitch," Doug growled angrily into Derek's ear. "Fucking fight it, it's going to hurt like a mother fucker."

Lying down on the now damp, warm velour couch, Derek started to scream as Doug's cockhead pressed against his tightly clenched rectum.

Doug firmly put his hand over Derek's mouth as he forced his cock into the struggling boy's ass.

Derek struggled mightily as he felt Doug's zipper rasp against his quite sore anus.

"No, oh God, please stop," he begged against Doug's hand.

"God damn your pussy's so fucking tight," Doug groaned into Derek's ear, then he licked Derek's ear.

Derek lost consciousness; Doug's hand was firmly over his mouth and nostrils and he couldn't breathe.

He came to and sobbed in shame as he spurted his own semen onto the couch cushion.

His sobbing continued as he felt Doug stiffen, then warmth spread all through his sore rectum.

When Doug pulled his cock from Derek's ass, Derek ran into the bathroom and threw up into the filthy bathtub. He then plopped down on the disgusting commode and grunted and groaned and sobbed as he tried to defecate.

Finally, he staggered out. Doug was sitting on the couch, fully dressed, holding a belt.

"Come here," he ordered.

Derek sat on the couch, fighting hard to keep his anus clenched tight. He could still feel Doug's semen trickling out, staining the already quite stained velour.

Doug tightened the belt around Derek's bicep and Derek watched in fascination as a few of his veins began to swell to the surface of his skin.