The God Particle by SLMN

Author:SLMN
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kingston Imperial

Ryan lay on his back, legs spread, his big fat belly being stroked by three very beautiful women who wouldn’t have looked at him twice if he wasn’t loaded. He knew that. They knew that. And none of them gave a fat flying fuck, because he was loaded, and they were loaded, too. But where his was green, theirs was whatever color those little pills they popped came in.

“Baby, you got pole position last time,” he tapped one of them on the head, moving her aside to let one of her friends shift into position between his legs.

He wasn’t looking at them.

He was looking at the stretch marks along his inner thighs and the blue veins that were a roadmap of previous addictions.

He was not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t about to let anyone body shame him. All he had to do was point to the primo quality of the lips around his shaft to prove his point. Beauty was in the wallet of the beholder, and he was beholding. Man, was he beholding.

“Your turn, sugar. Show me what you got.”

He hooked a finger towards the third woman, drawing her onto the bed while the first rolled off and went to change the music into something more suitable for her whole stripper pole routine as she thrust out her ass and twerked it. It was a good show. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Nice. Yeah. Real slow...yeah, just like that.”

He let her go on for a full minute, counting the slow laves of tongue up and down the shaft of his cock, and the tickle around the bell end that threatened to take him over the edge, but right before self-control became an issue, he tapped out.

“Okay beautiful, that's enough,” he said. “I like that shit. Now come on over here with your friends and show me how good you fuck.”

Her smile was a thing of beauty, but it had nothing on the flat lines of her stomach which were earned by hours upon hours of crunches and gym work. She coyly covered her belly button like it was the sexiest thing she had to offer. It wasn’t, that peach was a little further down, just begging to be split.

She got onto the mattress, working her way up toward him. Each move was predatory like a wild cat hunting out on the Serengeti.

“Use the thing,” he said, stopping her.

She knew what he meant. It was his thing.

She looked around and saw the giant strap-on hooked over the back of the dressing table mirror, all fake veins and thick hard ridges of purple plastic. He called it the Prince. She stepped into it, buckling it up and oiling up the shaft with enough lube to slip into Fort Knox unnoticed. But before she could make the metaphorical kill, the bedroom door slammed open so hard the brass handle left a hole in the stud wall, and a gang of masked assailants stormed the bedroom.

She stood there at the bottom of the bed.

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