Stories From The 6 Train 1(206)

Fuck, this is going to be a lot of fucking cum. I can tell already. Not for anything that Carla’s doing. But because my balls are the size of fucking tennis balls. I haven’t jerked off all fucking day.

“Argh!” I roar savagely as I feel the beginnings of my orgasm build up. My nuts tighten up and a jolt of electricity is shooting from my cock all the way up my spine.

I pull out and rip the condom off in one smooth flourish. You can barely even see it and that’s the fucking point. I turn Carla over with one arm and she turns willingly, a hungry look in her eye as she sinks down to her knees in front of my cock.

That’s right baby. Just like that. Come to fucking Daddy.

Carla looks at me with eyes clouded by lust and opens her mouth wide. She sticks out her tongue and I can’t control myself anymore. Just the wild abandon in this woman. The sheer depravity of the situation is too much for me. Just how fucking wrong it is. So fucking taboo. So fucking delicious.

I exhale and grunt as I fucking cum.

Shivers of pleasure wrack my body as thick, white ropes of cum shoot out. It hits her face and chin before she repositions herself and gets the remaining shots directly on her tongue and mouth.

I groan lewdly as she brings her mouth over and wraps her lips around my head, giving me a final couple of sucks.

My eyes roll back.

And that's when I hear it.

“Cut!” the sharp call of the director.

I open my eyes.

Carla is on her feet. She looks to me as she wipes her mouth with a towel. “That was fantastic, Ethan,” she says to me. “Only, I wish we had a chance to do it in private.”

I shrug. What can I say? I’m a busy fucking guy, and no way I’m going to make special time for an employee.

“Good luck with the rest of your shoots today, babe,” I tell her, and she smiles at me as I turn away.

Yeah, I know, you don’t need to tell me that she’s still looking. She’s staring at my naked ass. Wondering if there’s anything she can say.

“Ethan?” she calls out. Told you.

I turn around.

“You think that maybe….” Carla trails off because right at that moment my assistant, Cheryl walks up to me. I’m putting on my boxer briefs. But Cheryl doesn’t care. She’s seen everything already. And fuck you, no, I’ve never fucked her. But she’s been there for me since I was a kid.

Before I inherited all this. Before Illicit Entertainment was a globe girdling media company.

“I see you still insist on doing these movies, Ethan,” Cheryl says in an exasperated voice as she barely pays Carla any mind. Carla stands around for another minute, but decides that being naked at this point in time as everyone moves around her is just silly.

“You didn’t get the head shots, right?” I ask Cheryl.

She shakes her head. “No, everything was caught from the neck down,” she confirms. “It’s ready for beta testing on the product. We can head to the developer meeting right after this.”

Cheryl turns and starts walking to the door. She expects me to follow.

Oh right. The product. Haven’t told you what that is, babe. But trust me, you’re going to love it.

But before you head on in, let me just give you a fucking warning, okay?

You’ve seen what my fucking monster cock can do.

There’s a lot more fucking coming up. Seriously, either take your panties off now, or get ready for them to get drenched. And I’m talking wet enough that there’s no passing it off.

Make sure you’re by yourself. Get the fucking batteries ready. Get the fan. Fuck. Do whatever.

Because you’re about to go for a ride that’s gonna fucking rock your whole world.

Just don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you, babe.

I turn around and slip my shirt on and follow Cheryl out of the studio.





Brittney





I check my face in my compact mirror one last time and get out of the car. I get a few looks from the people on the street—a door to a limo usually has the driver opening it, but no way I’m going to waste Walter’s time doing that right now. He absolutely has places to be and he needs to go focus on that. Besides, I’m a big girl. I’ve been a big girl for a while now.

I tug the sash around my trench coat and hold my head up. This is going to be easy. This is going to be fun.

My heels click and clack on the shiny marble floor as I walk into the global headquarters of Carter Jeffries—the storied investment bank. It’s located in midtown Manhattan, on 52nd and Park Avenue. I head straight to the security desk and look the overworked schmo in the eye.

“Brittney Roman to see Carl Ketchum,” I tell the security guard. I don’t pay any attention to the guy. I need to let him think that I think I’m too good for him. That I’m too busy looking at my phone, looking at my nails, doing anything.