“Do you like it?” Rust murmured.
“Yes.”
He fed her some more. And more and more and more. She wriggled on his cock as she ate, aware that Carlo was watching Rust steady her by groping her left breast.
She was amazingly hungry, and so she finished the whole tray this way, with Rust feeding her and Carlo being a human mannequin.
At the end of it, Carlo’s cock was a flagpole once again.
“Fuck me,” Rust said.
To Carlo: “Bring us some sake, will you, waiter? I ordered it ages ago.”
She began to move up and down against Rust, her buttocks squishing the lower part of his planed abdomen. It was difficult because she did not have the leverage, but he gripped her belly and hips and guided her all the way.
Carlo turned a red, angry face away and exited through the curtains as she humped Rust’s cock in an increasingly frenetic hunger – a different sort of hunger from when she first ate the sashimi.
It was not just a physical hunger to climax for the umpteenth time that night. Hadn’t he fucked her three times tonight already? No. It was a hunger to be craved, a hunger to be cruel to someone who desired her and could not have her. A hunger to throw back at all the boys who had laughed at her size and timidity for all these years.
See? Men want me? I’m beautiful! They want to fuck me!
“Faster,” Rust instructed her. His breathing escalated.
She complied, thrusting her hips up and down at an accelerated pace.
“Rust,” she moaned. It was always his name on her lips.
Always Rust.
“Wait.” His voice was harsh.
He suddenly stopped her and lifted her bodily up with his large hands. She was surprised at how strong he was, but then, maybe she should not be surprised. His hard cock slipped out of her pussy, and before she knew what was happening, he had carried her to the table and bent her over the edge so that her breasts were pressed onto the surface and her buttocks were in the air.
Then his cock rammed into her pussy again.
“Ohhhh!” she cried out.
Her sodden, wet pussy, dripping with her own juices mixed with his pre-cum. He plunged back and forth into her with a force that left her breathless. His ardor was so urgent and his need so great that it was all she could do but be battered against the table, which was thankfully heavy and strong enough not to be pushed by the brunt of his raw, fucking power.
He stroked into her and pummeled into her. There was nothing gentle about his fucking this time. It was all raw heat and unbridled power. It was the fuck of a century. The fuck of flesh slapping against flesh and liquid, lubricating juices staining balls and inner thighs. The fuck of a rod-hard cock slamming against the mouth of her cervix, rubbing and chafing against her G-spot until she was delirious and screaming out in pleasure and pain and everything in between.
Her orgasm was even more violent than the previous one. That one had been the interplay of sensuality and differing textures. This one was borne of raw lust – lust like nothing she had ever encountered. God, to think that a man could want her so much! The euphoria this brought spiraled her soul into the starlight outside – to the reaches of the universe.
Rust! Rust! Rust!
He came just as the curtain opened again.
His sperm jetted into her over-stimulated vaginal tunnel. She could feel the tide of it, flowing in a hot deluge into her womb. And higher – crawling into the deepest spaces of her where her womanly parts lay waiting. The joy flowered in her heart and sent spears of ecstasy into her mind. Her satisfaction was immense.
Carlo stood at the doorway, carrying a tray with decanter of clear fluid and two glasses.
Rust did not pull out. He was panting.
“Your sake, sir,” Carlo said between his teeth.
Rust waved him in as he pulled his dripping penis out of Kate’s swollen pussy.
“Thank you, waiter.”
Kate was too winded to move. She lay draped over the table like a ragdoll. She could only watch Carlo come in once again and set the tray down on the table beside her. He expertly poured the Japanese wine into the two shot glasses.
Rust took one glass up. He stroked her damp hair off her forehead.
“You thirsty, beloved?”
She was aware of the undercurrents in the tiny room. How much was Rust playing to their audience of one? Beloved. Darling. The endearments kept tripping off his honeyed tongue like nectar.
“Yes,” she whispered.
All the talk had been fucked out of her.
He helped her up to the chair where she sat down, exhausted. Her pussy was sore like it had never been sore before. He put the glass to her lips and said, “Drink”. He watched her gulp at the sake thirstily and her throat move as she swallowed it.
He stroked her hair again.
“Satisfied?” he said.