Tales of the Sex League:
Leigh Onne vs. Charles Dryller
Leigh wrapped her arms tight around his head as she felt her breath freeze in her lungs. His face was buried between her sagging breasts as he roared through his orgasm. It was endless. Powerful. Demanding. All-consuming. Gripping them both and shaking them mercilessly until there was nothing left of either of them. Charles held her waist in his hands, massive hands, strong hands, an iron vice that held her still as he shot rope after rope of the hottest, thickest cock-seed she had ever known deep within her trembling cunt. Her head was tossed back, her eyes rolling into her skull, her long hair matted in sweat as she accepted it all. She wanted it. Craved it. Needed every last drop of his bestial power spreading warm through her belly, setting off those magical sparks that would shatter her so completely and leave her an orgasm-ruined rag doll in his arms. She lived for this moment. Fought for it. Every time they met.
Leigh and Charles were both veterans of the State Sex-League. Both had had remarkable careers stretching back a decade and more. Although neither had ever claimed the state title, both had the reputation as ‘Giant-killers’, taking down the toughest, strongest competitors… especially when the odds were not in their favor. Each year they found themselves invited to the Championships. Each year they tore their way through the competition leaving a score of ruined bodies and crushed dreams behind them. And each year they found themselves facing each other in another battle to force that first fatal, terrible, wonderful orgasm from the other. Sometimes he had won. Sometimes she had. No one in the League ever bothered to keep track.
Perhaps they knew each other too well. Perhaps a decade or more of talking at League parties, being on League function boards, being in the same business field, collaborating on the same projects, sitting at the same tables laughing over a bottle of wine while some stuffy ‘guest speaker’ bored the rest of the room with his thoughts on the world economy – perhaps all that played into the idea that, yes, they knew each other, their bodies, their wants, their desires, and their orgasms far too well.
Perhaps that is why their League matches were less the brutal, heated battles as were the others and more… well… Leigh and Charles. Oh, yes there was heat. There were desperate moans and shuddering screams as they fought to drive each other past the final edge. To drain the strength and the will out of each other as one defiant moment after another led to sexual marathons that lasted throughout the day and night. Until either cunt or cock lay wasted in surrender. Unlike many other matches, theirs were private. No cameras or feeds allowed. What they had, they refused to share.
She called him from Los Angeles. She would be landing at Kennedy at 10am if all went well. Charles would be honored to pick her up from the airport in his private limo. He carried her luggage to the trunk, not bothering his chauffeur with the task. They hugged, old friends, and he held the door as she slid her long, firm legs into the car. She caught him staring. She smiled with a tiny burst of pride. He asked about her flight. She told him about the jackass seated in front of her, the child snoring behind her. They held hands. They kissed ‘hello’.
By the time they got to the hotel her skirt was on the seat next to her and his trousers were down around his ankles. With the black-out windows of the limousine, no one along the BQE could know that the couple in the sleek, black limo had been fucking madly for the last forty minutes. Effectively beginning their match before even arriving at the hotel to check in with the administration staff.
It had started with a kiss. With a smirk as she commented on how his little monster was already hard and eager to escape the tent of his pants. Of him mentioning how sexy she looked with her skirt riding up her perfect legs. Her hand stroking his cock through the front of his pants. His hand sliding up to the back of her neck, under her hair, as he pulled her in for that first passionate kiss. With her first mewling whine as she mounted him, her pussy already dripping wet as she felt him grown so hard between her stockinged thighs.
If ever a cock fit a cunt it was his. Each stroke bottomed out perfectly, slamming past her cervix, threatening to violate her womb with every thrust. Her pussy lips stretched out perfectly, sealing tightly around the base of his shaft. Her red-lacquered nails bit into his broad shoulders. She rode him hard, biting down on her lip trying to fight back her own pleasure. She was on top. In full control of both Charles and his iron-hard shaft. She loved being in control. She loved setting the pace, forcing a man into just the right places where her cunt muscles could squeeze and massage moan after pitiful moan out of him until his balls burst in a geyser of surrendered cum.
She loved not being in control. As Charles held her hips fast and slammed his cock up into her helpless cunt like a damned jackhammer. She loved being fucked and used. Loved feeling the head of his cock pounding madly into those special places only he somehow could find. Loved holding on for dear life as he held her, thrashing and moaning, seconds away from gushing a hot stream of cunt-juice across his lap as the needs of her body overwhelmed her fading will.
By the time they got to the hotel they were both flushed and stammering their greetings to the committee. Clothes wrinkled, hair mussed, her make-up in ruin they were like two magnets drawn together yet held apart both quivering with their need to be re-joined. Se waited for him by the elevator, the key to room 502 in her hand. She held on to her purse as she watched the floor numbers pass by. He gripped the brass railing. There were cameras here after all and they were both very private people.
By the time the door to the hotel room had slammed shut, his cock was once again buried inside her. Their tongues dance, fingers grasping and tearing at now-ruined clothing. Their eyes are opened wide, blazing with hunger as he reached down, grabbing her ass and smashing her into the nearest wall. She grunts in pure pleasure, his aggression only fueling her own. Her legs wrap around his waist as he begins thrusting up inside of her, Leigh kicking off her shoes in frantic desperation.
Buttons fly across the room as Leah rips his shirt open, her hands feeling along his chest, inching up his warm skin, though a layer of manly chest hair. She leans her head back, luxuriating in the feel of his kisses running across her neck, so hungry for her flesh. Her own blouse is gone. She can feel Charles’ fingers behind her, unhooking her lacy white bra, releasing her breasts.
Her hands squirm down and squeeze the base of his cock feeling the girth, the length, the width. His balls are heavy and ripe with the treasure meant only for her. They kiss harder. Charles groans lost in the feeling of her as he grinds his cock into her moist heat. His cock could cut steel. Her breasts are finally free, and he moves to suck them. His tongue dances, his lips suck lightly on the nipple teasing and flicking. Leigh moans in enjoyment, whispering tiny prayers as she shivers, her arms and legs wrapped tight around the lustful beast she has awakened.
He looks up into her eyes only to see pure desire, a woman in heat, a woman in need. Leaning in, he sinks his teeth lightly into her neck and her legs are shaking along his hips, her hands tearing at his hair. Her pussy walls clench down, flames of pure pleasure soaring through him as she does. His hands are crushing her ass cheeks, spreading her wide, her pussy spreading open for him, inviting him deeper still.
Drool trails down their lips, pooling between her breasts as the plaster wall behind her starts to give way. Their sex is raw and real and sloppy, not the stuff of neat, clean, hygienic porn with their shaven cocks and dry-ass cunts. Leah’s nails dig scarlet rows across his back and arms as her pussy unleashes a river of cream along his shaft. He is beating her insides to death with his cock an she is screaming for more, wanting nothing more than to push him past caring if she lives or dies.
They end up on the bed, his cock never leaving her, fucking with no other thought than in and out, in and out, faster and harder until both are dripping with sweat. Her hands scratch across his back adding new scars to old as he sinks his teeth sharply into her breast. His right hand squeezes her throat as they kiss. She gasps for more, sucking along his tongue as if it were a second cock.
“Pull my hair, yes, just like that!” She does not have to tell him. He fucks
her harder, bucking his hips into hers, grunting like animals as
she meets him thrust for thrust. She squeezes down hard, her cunt frantically
grasping at his pounding cock. He can feel the cum boiling up from his balls.
She’s tensing up… on the very edge of her orgasm.
Leigh screams, biting down on
his ear, her mind shredded away. She tightens up on his cock, seconds from exploding
into a million shards of, what?, nothing! Charles wraps his arms around her,
crushing her to his chest, firing his seed deep. She can feel her ribs cracking
under the strain, knowing that he would never notice, her wails of pain mixing
and disappearing under a flood of pure ecstasy.
Charles stayed inside of her, feeling her soft kisses along his forehead. He feels himself softening between her pussy walls. Leah wraps her quivering legs around his hips. Deep within her his seed, His seed, is spreading throughout her womb, warming her body and soul. She has won this match. His cum is proof of that. Won in more than one way, she smiles.
She looks at the clock. The morning is far past gone but the suite has been rented for the entire weekend. For now, they will sleep. Then they will shower and have lunch. They will talk and kiss. Then they will fuck again, just as hard and desperately as ever. There are no cameras, no vid-feeds. They will both win, they will both lose. And the League and the world itself could go fuck themselves until Monday.