Chapter 2
I arrived at the theater with thirty seconds to spare, and had to jostle my way through the crowd. It was the closing weeks of the current show and it seemed all of New York had waited until the last minute to see it. We wouldn't get the place for another two weeks, but our producer, Martin Heller, had already claimed a small office. Life would become a great deal easier once the theater was ours and everyone was collected in one place. We'd still rehearse in the rehearsal hall four blocks away. But everyone else would be under one roof and I wouldn't have to spend my time racing around the city to check on everyone's progress.
I knocked on Martin's door at precisely 7:00 p.m. My knock was greeted by a tentative "Come in". The opening door showed Martin (never "Marty") to be seated behind his desk, a quizzical look perched on his heavily jowled face. He smiled as I entered, apparently remembered our meeting.
"Promptness. That's what I like about you, Sandy. Promptness. That, and your body."
"Let's keep this strictly business, okay?" I said, slip-ping into a chair to keep the desk between us.
"Sure, honey. What can I do for you?" He leaned back in his chair and twirled his fat cigar between his lips, sucked on it like a fat, stubby cock. The office reeked of cheap tobacco and sweaty body odor. Martin was overweight, not rolling in fat, just overweight. He looked like an out-of-shape boxer, a good physique gone sour from ignoring middle-age spread. It was a shame because he could be a rather handsome man. Even beneath the extra skin, his face gave evidence that he was a real lady killer in his prime.
"I need money," I said, cutting to the heart of the matter.
"Everybody needs money. Personal or business?"
"Business, of course. I need a petty cash fund to clear up all the little emergencies that keep cropping up. No much. A couple of hundred or so."
"A hundred here, a couple of hundred there, it all adds up, sweetheart. I'm not swimming in dough, you know."
"I'm not asking for a lot. I just need--"
"I know. But ya gotta realize that we're running way over budget. Money's tight."
"Not as tight as your pocketbook."
"That's not the way to get what you want, honey."
I hated the way he called me "honey". It made me feel cheap and dirty. He was right, though, the way to his checkbook was not through rudeness. I'd have to play on his ego, butter him up for the kill.
"Sorry, Martin. Frustration made me say that. And worry. I'm facing a rapidly dwindling bank account and this show isn't helping. How about helping a damsel in distress?"
"I'll think about it. Right now there's a bigger problem facing you. I need your help with our star."
"Debbie? Mama Rose?"
"No. Carla Cristan. Everyone knows it's Mama Rose's show, everyone but Carla, that is. Our Gypsy Rose Lee is a royal pain in the ass. What a waste of nice tits."
"I've heard some grumbling, but I didn't know there was a real problem." I'd spent the last week checking on everything from props to costumes and hadn't made it over to the rehearsal hall. There were just too many things to do.
"The bitch is holding up rehearsals," Martin said, leaning back over the desk, his chair squeaking beneath his weight," and costing me money! Fucking cunt is a real prima donna. Another week like this one and she's out!"
"You can't fire her. We've only got three weeks to opening!"
"I can do whatever I fucking please. I want you at all rehearsals from now on. Ride that bitch, keep her in line." Martin puffed on his cigar, his face reddening the more he thought about the money Carla was costing him.
"I'll do what I can. I promise. But what about my money? Did I get it or not?"
"What are you willing to do for it? Fuck me for a hundred?"
"Martin!" Our business meeting had suddenly turned personal. I watched him rise from his chair, move around the desk, and sit on the corner. His suit was wrinkled and creased, his pants pulling across his heavy thighs. His stomach fell over his belt and his white shirt was open at the collar. A hopeful smile surrounded the cigar.
"A hundred! Haven't you heard of inflation? A hundred will get you a look at my tits. A thousand."
"That's robbery! Two hundred for a blow job."
I don't know why I was continuing this haggling. I had no intention of flicking him. Still, there was something intriguing about screwing someone overweight, an en-counter I had not yet experienced. "Nine hundred and you can do whatever you like."
"Three hundred."
"Eight.
"Five hundred and we fuck. No more, no less.
"Deal. Write the check." It all happened so fast I had just bartered away my box for something I should have gotten free and clear. But a deal is a deal. Martin wrote out the check and locked the door before handing it to me.
"Don't you trust me?" I asked, pulling my sweater over my head. "I'm an honest woman and you'll get what you paid for. No more, no less."
Martin finally put out his cigar. He motioned to the sofa and began to undress. I matched him piece for piece, waiting for his shirt to hit the floor before I went any further. Martin meant to be fully naked, removing his shoes and socks.
I watched him in fascinated curiosity. When we faced each other in our underwear, my body tingled in anticipation of this new adventure. I couldn't see his cock in his boxer shorts, his stomach pulling the fabric away from his crotch, and had no idea if he was yet erect or hung limply down.
His T-shirt inched over his hairy belly, exposing a deep and dark navel in the center of firm flesh. He was solid, not flabby and jiggling, or so it would appear. My bra fell to the floor and we stood bare-chested, my tits round and perky with the vigor of youth, his soft and fleshy.
"Pretty titties!" Martin said, his eyes scanning my chest before dropping down to stare at my panties. "Aha! You're not a real blonde!"
"I most certainly am!"
"Not according to that black mound between your legs."
"Black my ass!" I said, hooking my panties and lowing them down my legs. "Take a look at that, asshole! That bush is ash blonde!"
"So it is. Spread 'em, honey. Give me a look at that pretty pussy."
"Drop 'em, mister. Let's see what kind of a cock you've got hidden under that big belly."
Martin lowered his shorts, stepped out of them to lay bare a flaccid dick. It was short and stubby just like one of his cigars, his pisshole staring straight at me. Curly hairs erupted in disarray, appeared trapped in the wrinkly folds of his cock. His nuts were bumped for-ward by thighs that met in a fleshy mass.
"Now? I need to see your open pussy to spark a little life into this limp dick."
I moved to the sofa, laid myself down and let one leg hang over the edge to open my cunt. My sex lips parted slightly, gave only a seductive hint at the pink luxury awaiting Martin's cock. He moved next to me, stood above me, as his hand massaged soft skin into sturdy flesh. It grew and grew. The wrinkles vanished as his head stretched out to get a better look at me. What was once so short and unimpressive now stood tall and proud. Where did all that meat come from?
With an erect cock in full view, I remained dry as a bone. My pussy just wasn't excited about the impending intrusion. Martin's mass was going to make this more of a chore than a party. I slipped a finger into my hold, worked it around to get my juices started. It didn't work. I was moist, but certainly not ready to accept an unoiled prick. I worked harder, pumped a little faster.
Martin climbed on the sofa. It sank beneath his weight, dropped my ass into a channel rushing way from his knee.
"Keep it open for me Sandy. Christ, I can't get in if you're going to clamp it shut."
I raised my ass from the sofa, my foot pressing up from the floor, my other leg thrown onto a back cushion to keep my pussy from sinking into the upholstery. There was no way I could maintain this awkward position through an entire fuck, especially not with his full weight bearing down on me. I just wanted to get this over with, get him in and get him off.
"That's my girl. Just let me in and then you can relax." He licked his hand and swabbed the head of his dick several times. Then his hands grabbed onto the sofa, his legs stretching back behind him. His cock inched itself closer to my cunt and was lost from sight below a hanging stomach. I felt his balls as they skimmed my lips to lay his throbbing cock atop my crack.
I wasn't ready for him to release his hand, to let himself lay on top of me. His stomach flattened against mine, enveloped me in heat and skin. His hand wrapped around his dick, circled it between my lips until he found the opening of his desire. In it came. Just the tip at first, a parting of the ways, a wetting of the circular object of a man's lust.
I closed around his organ and had to let myself slump into the sofa, his mass too much to hold up. The downward movement drew him in, his cock steadily climbing up my tunnel. His hand withdrew, came to my breast. His other hand clamped onto my other tit and I had him totally on top of me. I sank deeper into the sofa, felt I would be crushed by the body bearing down on me.
In spite of my worry, excitement raced through my body as his cock began to work its magic. He was all the way in, circling his ass to probe the four corners of my box. I finally started to juice, to bathe his cock for a smooth and effortless glide in and out of my hole.
Being pressed into the crevice made by our combined weight, I wrapped my cunt tightly around him, guaranteeing he could not escape. His cock was mine.
He pumped very slowly, his hands gripping my tits, his stomach rolling up and down my own in rippling waves. It wasn't quite as firm as I had first supposed. It was soft and warm, soothingly comfortable.
I left one leg over the back cushion and latched the other onto his ass. With one leg up, I could give him better penetration for our mutual satisfaction.
His mouth attached itself to one soft nipple and he began to thrust his dick in earnest. The heat of his mounting speed wafted a sweaty scent across my nose. I inhaled deeply, captured the musk of love. It stirred my pussy, built a fantasy of sweat-drenched bodies pumping iron in glistening nakedness. I began to pump back, worked my cunt along his shaft in slick strokes, my pussy alive with flowing liquids, stimulated into an effusion of fluids. All worry vanished as my cunt was now wildly wet, drooled around a dick that sloshed in banging infatuation.
"You're swamping my dick, baby! What a hot little cunt you've got!" His mouth rose above my growing nipple, a long string of saliva keeping us connected. "I'm going to pound this pussy into mush!"
"Suck my tit and shut up. Just pump that prick. Faster. Put your weight behind it!"
Martin did just that. His ass rose into the air and dropped, plowed his cock deeper inside my anxious cunt. His mouth returned to my tit, his teeth clamping around my hardened nipple. His ass rose and fell with the driving speed of a man half his age. My pussy accepted every plummeting jab and wanted more, needed a thorough slamming to get it off. I couldn't even feel the beginnings of an orgasm, knew this was going to take a while.
I slipped the heel of my foot into his asscrack, drove it along the sweaty channel to spur him on. He reacted in short, quick stabs at my pussy, his cock jiggling and bouncing between my grasping lips. That started a fire in the pit of my stomach, a fire that would build itself into a raging pyre of flaming orgasm.
Martin left my tit again, panted over my chest in gasping breaths. My demanding pace carried a heavy toll on his lungs, forced his mouth to open in a desperate plea for more air. His stomach fanned my body like a giant bellows and my hands had to know the feel of his flesh. They probed along his sides, felt the smooth shape of his torso,' the soft roundness of being over-weight. It was a turn-on I'd never thought possible. My hands filled with Martin's body, kneaded and massaged his heated flesh in great handfuls of sensuous skin. My hands moved to his chest, surrounded his tits and toyed with his own stiffening nipples. I was surprised by the pleasure obtained by holding onto a pair of tits, my palms sensing resistance from the hard knobs in their centers. I raised my head, wanted to take a nipple into my mouth, but it was impossible. Martin's back was arched too far away for me to taste the hair-circled orbs.
My head dropped as Martin made a tremendous stab at my cunt, his ass clenched, perspiration dripping from his chin.
"Oh!" I blurted. "Do that again!" I don't know what he touched but I wanted him to touch it again. It had sent a wave of pleasure rushing to my head in an explosive outburst of sensitivity. I think he had found an erogenous zone I didn't know I had. Whatever he had accidentally banged into brought my orgasm to the forefront. It leapt from a smoldering fire into a churning volcano.
Martin plowed into me with the same ferocity, but couldn't find the spot. It was one of those once in a lifetime events never to be repeated. I rocked my hips, tried to help him find it, but it just wasn't to be. I settled in, knowing he'd bring me to climax, laid back to enjoy the mound of flesh claiming me totally.
The extreme pleasure invading my pussy made me forget the size of the man on top of me. He was weight-less, my body too lost in joy to feel anything but rapture. The wonderful cock trapped between my legs sinfully erased any other thoughts. Pleasure was all.
"I'm about to cum." Pant. Gasp. "To fill that donut with luscious cream." Moan. Sigh. "To spurt my jism up your fucking box!"
"Do it, Martin!" I yelled, my head rolling from side to side as my climax neared eruption. I silently prayed he kept his rhythm steady through his release, maintained the glorious motion that would spill my juices into the light.
My leg slipped off his drenched ass, hit the floor with a thud. My pussy spread itself wide and Martin came diving in, tumbled into a paradise. His cock buried itself to its base, his balls a smashed wad of rollicking hairs and loosely wrinkled skin. He stopped. Held himself still as if gathering the strength for one last attack.
Then we were off to the races, Martin a steam engine of unending power, his thrusts deepening, penetrating me to the fullest. His face reddened, sweat streamed over his cheeks. .His cock flew over the rails of lust, driving, his fire stoked. Rapidly, frenetically he pounded my pussy, attacked with the vengeance of a scorned lover.
I couldn't move. His deep, heavenly thrusts pinned me to the sofa, bounced my pussy up and down in opposition to his runaway, overwrought penis.
My cunt was wrapped in such excruciating excitement I didn't even feel the beginnings of his release. All of a sudden, the back of my pussy was being hammered by buckshot spraying from a firing rifle. Shot after shot exploded in a salvo of spewing sperm.
Then it was my turn. The heat of his shooting cum was the final inspiration need by my resisting orgasm. Martin kept up his enchanting actions as he covered my cunt in cum. I showered the walls of my pussy, tried to wash them clean, drenched his cock in my own hot cum. My back arched. My mouth opened in a silent scream. My cunt splayed itself around his drooling dick. We weren't fucking any more, we were reaping the benefits. The beautiful benefits of nature's gift.
We both collapsed, luxuriously exhausted. Only then did I know his weight. I struggled beneath him, my chest heaving against his.
"Holy shit!" Martin finally said. "I haven't fucked like that in twenty years. That's some twat you've got there, Sandy."
"Thanks. Now would you mind getting off me?"
"Sorry. Guess I should go on a diet," he said, rolling onto the floor, his stomach rising up like the Pillsbury Doughboy's. His soft cock flopped over his balls, pink and stretched beyond its normal stubby self.
"That was nice," I said, a touch of surprise in my voice. "I didn't think it would be."
"Haven't you heard? Fat is fun," Martin said, slapping his stomach which jiggled and bounced like Jello. "Give me a second and I'm sure I can get it hard again."
"I'm sure you could. Maybe some other time," I said, extracting myself from the sofa. I had to step over his head to reach my clothes and his hands grabbed onto my ankles, planted a foot on each side of his face.
"What a view! I could die just like this."
"And you just might if you don't let me go."
"Come on, Sandy. Pee on me. Please?"
"Martin! I'm not into that kinky stuff."
"Oh, I don't want any crap. Just let your golden shower splash all over me."
"No way," I said, wrenching one foot out of his grasp.
Martin rolled onto his side and watched me dress. He kept mumbling, but I ignored him. I had what I had come for and it was time to leave.
He stopped me when I reached the door. "Remember what I said about Carla. You get her in line or it's your job."
"Since when is my job dependent on your spoiled star?"
"Since now, baby. Do whatever it takes. Just do it."
"And if I don't, I lose my job.
"That's right. And it would take a hell of a lot more than you did today to save it."
I left, my job on the line, Martin now nothing more than a sweaty blob of fat. Period.