Posted by hisdinner on February 16, 2003 at 19:13:37:
Once Burnt
Brad pulled his car into the garage and slumped back against the leather seat. He heard that voice in his head again, rippin' him a new one. Brad, you numbnuts! How did you get into this shit? Bart shook his head as if to say, "Dunno, Coach, dunno." Five years ago Brad was Top Dawg in his little pack of golfin', drinkin', game-watchin' pals. Oh yeah, Brad ruled, Brad rocked. Five years ago, Brad had blown away his buddies with his homecooked smorgasbord of Marci meat. They had all hailed Brad as indisputable King of the Unwhipped. They all sat around and grumbled about paying the endless tabs for their whining, greedy, trophy wives. But Brad was The Man. He'd capped Marci's ass, cannibal style. But now he was back into the same old stew. Only this time, THIS time, damn it, he'd outdone himself. Brad understood how he'd ended up so whipped this time: He'd been thinking with his little head. Yeah, this time it was double trouble, Brad mused, as he peered out from the garage toward the house. Yeah, double trouble, stereo shit. Brad saw nothing obstructing his path, he saw no shapely ass, he heard no tinkle of goddamned girlish laughter. All clear for now. Brad ducked around the corner and headed behind his house, carrying something bulky in a BBQ World box.
Five years ago Brad had spent a fine evening fucking his first wife, Marci. Then, he'd strangled her and taken her to the smokehouse and hung her up. Brad smiled, remembering that aroma. She'd earned it, that was for sure. Marci had cozied up to just one fruity decorator too many, his house had been redone more times than her lips, and besides, the whining bitch was ripe for it, that nice round ass was ready to eat. Brad grimaced as he hoisted his bulky package through the cabana door. I shoulda stuffed fucking rolls of wallpaper up her ass, it woulda been more fitting. Marci had gotten better than she deserved. She'd looked so good when he'd lifted her tanned carcass off that hook in the smokehouse and laid her out on the cart. (The guys would never know, but he had done her again, right then and there.) Those hams, all firm and juicy again, her ribmeat? - just perfection, and those sirloins and calf-chops... Brad almost drooled as he remembered running his hands over her generous tits. Marci had carved out better than any HoneyBaked ham. The guys couldn't get enough of her. By the end of the game, ol Marci was way down below her sorority fucking weight. She packed nicely into the FrostKing. And Brad was free and clear to play the field.
"Fuck me!" he grumbled into his chest as he slumped in his favorite Laz-E-Boy, "how could I be so damn blind?" Brad flicked the handle and reclined, staring at the end of a tennis match on the big screen. Naw...not blind, he realized. Just hungry. And two years ago, when he'd seen Bunny jiggling into bar by the pro shop, all his common sense went south. Yeah, it went south, hit his cock and turned into a booming voice that chanted, "You gotta fuck that pussy! You gotta OWN that pussy!"
Brad had been idling at the counter of the shop, shooting the shit with the pro. Brad was three years into being single again. He'd just come from the bar. Brad had needed to sneak out of there when he'd realized that not one or two, but all four of the women sucking up cocktail weenies had sucked on the BradWurst first. Trouble was, those country club bitches wanted a fucking diamond bracelet every time they blew a guy! And they got pissy if you bit them a little too hard. So after a couple three four dates apiece, he moved his show up the road. Bimbo Number Four was the ass end of the pickings here. Brad was downright gloomy. Then he saw a Rack (with a woman attached) that made his woodie salute like the Fourth of July.
Bunny was all cherries and cream, all curves and tease as she walked into the Hole19. Best of all, she was new in town. Brad made a beeline for her, planning to swoop in and stake a claim before yesterday's meat could fill her pretty head with poison. Brad moaned as he watched the round cheeks of her ass play back and forth beneath the tight embrace of her slinky sundress. She made Brad think of those sexy 50's pin-up girls his dad put up in his garage. She had that tiny waist, that hourglass figure. Her berry-colored lips were so lush, they were made to wrap around a dick. Bunny tossed back her glossy hair and it swept her ivory shoulders. Her round melons pressed tight against the bodice of her dress, their upper curves rising firm and high above the red and white print. He whispered to himself, "My gawd, I could eat her raw."
Brad's knees almost gave way as he watched Bunny perch on the edge of a barstool and cross her silky legs. She carelessly revealed a generous portion of thigh. Brad got just a glimpse of red thong as she leaned forward and picked imaginary lint from her ankle. Brad watched her tits, swelling out of that dress, and he willed them to pop free. He closed the distance between them and revved up his charm.
Well now, good ol' Brad got Bunny, and Bunny got all the bracelets she deserved. And then, August came, and one day, Bunny peered up slyly from her customary place between Brad's thighs. Her face glowed rosy pink, and her lipstick was smeared onto her cheeks like jam on a baby's face. She giggled as she lapped up a bit of cream that clung to her pouty lower lip, and she said, "Barbi's coming home tomorrow."
Brad didn't answer, he was drained. Bunny reached up and tweaked his nipple (which Brad hated, it was so gay, dammit) and Bunny added, "She's been dying to meet you."
Brad sat up, rubbing his chest (not directly the nipple, of course) and asked, "Barbi? Who?" Brad was immeasureably thrilled. Had he heard right? Was Bunny birddogging for him? This was too much, too good to be true, the woman had found a girl for him? Threesomes danced in Brad's head.
"She's my daughter," said Bunny, sliding up beside him, her firm breasts bouncing as she sat up. "She's been with her dad, but summer's almost over, so she's back with me now." Brad's dreams deflated almost as quick as his cock. He turned and walked toward the shower. Bunny asked, "Want to come for dinner and meet her?"
Brad mumbled, "Yeah, sure," and stepped into the shower, thinking, "Oh, great, a kid. That sucks the Big One."
Brad pulled up in front of Bunny's at sunset the next day. He saw two figures side by side on the deck, silhouetted against the strong rays of the setting sun. Bunni looked like a pagan fertility goddess, all tits and ass. The other was an angel. Barbi was slender, tiny, beautiful. She looked indecently sweet, unbearably fresh, untouched, succulent. Barbi's slim form was tucked into a white tank top and denim cutoffs.
If Bunny was the feast, then Barbi was dessert. Barbi stood up on tiptoe, smiled up into his face, and touched Brad's hand. Brad swallowed hard, took up her hand and swear to god, he nibbled it. Barbi giggled, beaming encouragement, and moved even closer to Brad. He could see the twin nubs of her nipples pressed against the tank top, little nipples on small breasts that barely interrupted the drape of her tank top. Brad was amazed, looking down at her upturned face: Was this little darling about to kiss him? Brad's cock swelled painfully hard. Barbi startled Brad by turning her back to him, still gripping his hand, then placing it against the warmth of her little curved belly. She brushed her ass against his pants, and asked, "Can you please pick me up so I can pull down the awning? The handle broke off."
Her thin arms were already reaching up, and Brad bit his lip as he watched her top rise and reveal a bit of her slim back, delightfully dimpled just above the swelling curve of her cute little ass. His fingertips nearly met around her waist as he lifted the girl. Brad held her tight little bottom within biting range of his mouth and salivated. Barbi tugged on the awning, then dragged it down as she pressed herself against him. The awning locked into position. Barbi let go of it and slid slowly down Brad's body, giggling again as she brushed her cleft against the bump in his jeans. And what was Mom doing this whole time? She was cooking up steaks, wearing a little bikini bra and sarong, and making an elaborate display of not noticing her daughter rubbing all over her boyfriend. Brad's mind reeled with possibilities, none of them legal. He snagged a beer and sat down in the lone deck chair and let Barbi entertain him with endless chatter about school and friends. Barbi stood next to him, absentmindedly tracing her fingers over Brad's shoulder, or squeezing his biceps to make a point. He patted his lap, not even dreaming she would...but she did. That miniature tease sat down, sideways, then wriggled around to face him, then casually leaned against him as her stories went on and on. Each time she shifted on his lap, Brad thought he'd die a happy man. Brad didn't even wonder why Mom had left them short of chairs. He sucked down beer, feeling that little girl's warm, compact figure pressing into his lap. When it was finally time to eat, he was ravenous, devouring Barbi over and over in his mind's eye.
Brad needed Barbi, and Bunni knew it. Brad panted after that tiny bit of heaven, that little girl who simpered and smiled and teased just past the edge of his reach. Bunni was after much more than bracelets; she wanted it all. And Bunni knew how to bait a hook. While he fed Bunni his cock (picturing little Barbi's mouth stretched around it) Bunni fed Brad little ideas. What better way to have his fill of voluptuous Mom and enticing daughter, than to have the two move in with him? By the week's end, it was decided, the three B's would be inseparable, one big happy family. By late September, Brad's bachelor pad was mired under a layer of pastel spandex and charge slips. But Brad was too delirious to give one lick about his castle. His cock ruled. True, he hadn't quite got Barbi yet. She pranced in and out of the house, tossing him a flirty smile, a quick little kiss on the cheek, brushing her body past his, always with a gang of giggling girls, never alone with him. His hunger grew and grew, watching her scamper down the hall, pink from a bath, tendrils of hair trailing down her back, a towel draped to reveal the cleft of her rosy bum. His jaws ached to bite her. Meanwhile, Bunni cemented her position. He'd agree to anything she asked after a good long sucking, especially if she plied him with her demands during an afternoon spent watching Barbi swim and lie out half-naked by the pool.
One morning Brad woke up married. He jerked away from a dream of a sentient steamroller intent on crushing his balls. He sat up in bed, shuddering, alone as usual these days. Bunni had joined the ranks of women at the Spa complaining about their husbands over a mineral bath and an herbal massage. Bunni had cramps, Bunni had a headache, Bunni's nails were just done, she couldn't possibly suck cock, she might chip one. Huh? Brad's beautiful world was shattering. Bunni needed a new Mercedes, and what about my tummy tuck, and while they were at it, let's re-tile the pool. Bunni knew Brad wouldn't mind that she'd just sold his powerboat and that ugly four wheeler and put the money in a college fund for Barbi, 'cuz it's just never too soon, honey. Right?
"Wrong wrong wrong, fucking-A wrong!" Brad fumed. He sat up on the bed, and for the first time, post-Barbi, Brad looked around. The first thing he noticed were pink curtains in his own bedroom. Fucking pink! Pink? What had that bitch said about college? My jeep? Sold my fricking boat? What the fuck? when did she-? why didn't I--?" Brad blew a gasket.
Yeah, Brad blew a gasket, but this time, he didn't stay mad long. At least, not as far as the girls could tell. Bunni and Barbi might have noticed that he was puttering more than usual in the poolhouse, but they didn't care. They had their posh address and their walk-in closets. And Brad had his Jennaire. Brad got up from his recliner and walked to the little kitchenette. It was gool ol' Marci who'd insisted on that improvement. Now, as Brad pulled out the oven racks and set them down, he decided he didn't mind a bit. He surveyed the interior of the oven, and eyed the large roasting pan he'd picked up this afternoon. "Yeah, it's going to work just fine," he said.
Bunni was delighted when he met the girls at the door with drinks and announced that he was cooking tonight. "You know I can't have red meat anymore this week, honey," Bunni said, whisking past Brad without a kiss. "I'll help Brad in the kitchen, Barbi, you go take a bath." Bunni lounged at the breakfast bar, gulping her daiquiri and watching Brad wash up some apples and veggies. Brad smiled at her as she downed the drink, his patented one-two punch. "Hot from your workout? Did Barbi enjoy the gym?"
Bunni shook her head, feeling dizzy, and tried to focus her uncooperative eyes. "Do you really think you should be giving Barbi liquor?" Bunni eyed Brad, half suspicious. Brad turned and smiled at Bunni, watching her as she slipped and nearly fell from her stool. "You trying to-- tryne to --Ooo!" Bunni whooped as she lost her balance and tipped forward. Brad swept in behind her whispering, "Oh yeah, I'm trying to fuck her, Bunni, dear. But that's just for starters. Fucking her is my appetizer, dear."
Brad got to work on Bunni as the drink took over. She'd slipped to the floor, so Brad undressed her there, using a nice sharp knife to slit her workout clothes from plunging neckline to crotch. "Beautiful," he murmured to her as he watched her breasts rise and fall, her glazed eyes barely responsive. She only yipped a little as he used a fireman's carry to hoist her up and flop her onto his rolling cart for a quick ride out to the smokehouse. He did adore her. This time, he'd enjoy his woman after he'd hung her. Brad smiled as he bound her wrists together and wheeled her around the corner. Once in the cramped quarters of the smoker, Brad forced the drowsy woman to kneel and stretch her arms above her head. She hung by the rope binding her wrists together, dangling from a thick steel hook. Bunni's big jugs lifted, magnificent, as he pulled her forward, and her unsteady legs grappled to find a place on the floor. She teetered on tip toe, barely able to stand, and started to moan. Brad kissed her mouth hard, teeth sinking into her lower lip, then he stuffed an apple firmly into her mouth, forcing her jaws wide, framing the apple between soft red lips. He stepped back and admired her form, then nodded. Show time! As much as he wanted to fuck her now, Brad held back. He walked out and closed the smokehouse door. His voluptuous bride turned around slowly, toes skittering, the strain on her arms bringing Bunni back to consciousness. She whimpered around the apple gag.
Upstairs, bathwater was just starting to spill over the rim of the tub. Barbi lay immersed in the remaining bubbles, her head on a cushion. She snored softly. Sounds like a kitten, Brad decided, as he tucked his hands under her armpits and pulled Barbi out of the water. He gazed at her sweet soft body as he carried her down the stairs. When they reached the cabana-cum-cookhouse, he took her directly to the roasting pan he'd prepared. It stood on a rolling cart, already filled with assorted herbs and large chunks of vegetables. Brad had layered the bottom of the pan with a thick mat of greens. He had the sleepy girl kneel there, allowing her to bend her elbows and rest her head on her forearms against the cool greens. She sighed and lay her cheek on one arm. Barbi's round pink bottom rose from the pan and her legs were wedged in place by piles of vegetables. Brad sprinkled her body with oil. When he placed his large hands on her body, a jolt of electric pleasure ran through him. He moaned at the velvet feel of her soft skin. He traced the curve of her buttocks, he ran his hands around to caress her gently rounded tummy. He moved his fingers up over her little rosebud nipples and pressed and squeezed them, his hands circling and kneading, working the oil into her flesh. The drowsy girl awakened, barely, and stirred. Brad leaned over her and whispered, "You're going to be so good." Barbi whimpered again and tried to move, but Brad so easily overpowered her. "What, you think I forgot to clean and gut you? Heck no, this was just a dress rehearsal, come on, let's go see Mommy now." He felt her slick small body struggle against him as he pulled her from the pan. He set the pan aside for later and returned the squirming girl to the cart, quickly binding her tiny wrists with a loop of cooking twine. He used a hook on either side of the cart to bind her ankles, spreading her knees wide. She knelt and sobbed. "I think Mama ought to enjoy this show, hon," Brad chuckled, and off they went.
Brad unlatched the door and shoved his second cartload in. "Hi Bunni! Say Hi to Mommy, sweetie! Oops, too late!" Brad used one hand to pry Barbi's mouth apart and stuff in an apple. It stretched the girl's lips tight. Brad laughed as he turned the kneeling girl around to face her mother. Brad took a moment to stop Bunni's slow twirl. "Wouldn't want you to miss a thing," Brad shouted gaily as he unzipped his pants and moved behind the squirming, panicky girl. Brad pulled out a squirt bottle of cooking oil and doused Barbi's soft pink pussy. His rough hands probed and stroked thick fingers into her as both piglets shrieked around their apple gags. Barbi quivered, and sobbed, dumbfounded. "Teasing does have its rewards, sweetie pie," Brad said, as he centered his cock and plunged it in, using Barbi's thin shoulders to gain leverage, grunting and grinding, forcing her open. The girl howled around the apple and sank lower, her whole body jolting forward as Brad hammered her.
When Brad was done with Barbi, he let her watch as he turned to Mommy. Bunni's flashing eyes lost their fire when Brad pressed one hand against her sternum then slit her belly. He shoved a waste pan under Bunni's feet and allowed her glistening organs to slip out of her as she shrieked. Brad gripped her breasts and impaled her ass with his cock. Little wonder how he stayed up for these events, Brad thought. He had adjusted the ropes so that he could pull the spasming, leaking Bunni onto his cock, using the ropes to support her, up and down, back and forth. He grinned. Was this his greatest moment, or what? About the time he exploded into her, the last of her insides slipped out. "Great timing, hon!" he cried. Brad made quick work of cleaning Bunni. He tossed her onto the cart and wheeled her into the kitchen, where the oven glowed. "You look real fine, hun! Oh, don't fret, soon as you're half done, I'll slide little Barbi in beside you. I wouldn't have the heart to keep my girls apart for long."
Brad had a marvelous time that night, watching through the oven door as his piglets steamed and sizzled and roasted so golden. But his favorite part came later in the dining room as he gazed down at them, side by side on a huge platter. He'd garnished the succulent roasted girls, and had a bit of fun slicing off parts and rearranging them. He chuckled as he looked at the way Bunni's breasts barely fit onto Barbi's chest. "I know your mother would have wanted you to have those," he said.
by hisdinner