Lavish Didi Stories - Bulk, the ex

Author’s note: All my characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the adult characters.

I was on the couch when he knocked.

My sister Susan had been gone for three days with her girlfriends after the breakup. Her stuff was still half-packed in boxes by the door. I had the place to myself until she decided whether she was coming back or not. The knock was two hard hits. I opened it and Bulk filled the doorway. Her ex. 26yo. Firefighter. Dumb and loud.

He was bigger than I remembered from the last time he’d been over. Tank top stuck to his chest. Arms out. The left one was covered in black and gray from shoulder to wrist — a cat face on the upper arm, Celtic knots lower down, thick lines that moved when he flexed. His hair was messy from the gym. Short beard. He smelled like sweat and the inside of a locker room. The gray shorts sat low. He had a duffel in one hand.

“Susan said I could grab the rest of my shit,” he said. Voice low. He didn’t wait for me to answer. He walked past me into the living room. “She’s not here, right?”

“No.”

“Good.” He dropped the duffel. Looked at me. Really looked. “You always stare at my arms like that when she’s around too, or is it just when she’s not?”

I didn’t answer. He smirked. Lifted the tattooed arm and flexed. The bicep jumped. The pit opened. Dark hair dampened. Sweat. The smell hit me from where I was standing.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He flexed again, slower. “She dumped me three days ago. Said I was too much. Too loud. Too everything. So now I don’t have to pretend I didn’t notice you looking. And you’re lucky today. Gym got me horny as fuck.”

He stepped closer. The tank top rode up a little. Abs. A line of dark hair. More sweat at the waistband. He raised the arm higher, right in front of my face.

“Kiss my bicep, bitch.”

I did. The skin was hot. Salty. He made me do the other arm too. Then he turned, lifted both arms, and told me to lick. I pressed my face into the left pit first. The hair was damp. The smell was strong — gym, deodorant that had given up after the intense workout. He kept me there until I licked it clean. Then the other side. Same thing. My cock was already hard in my shorts. He noticed.

He made me stay on the pit longer the second time. Pressed my face in until I couldn’t breathe right. The hair was coarse. Wet. I licked until my tongue hurt. When he finally pulled me off, my chin was shiny. He looked down at me and flexed again, slow, so the muscle jumped right in front of my eyes.

“This is what an alpha male looks like, your little bitch. On your knees.”

I dropped. He hooked his thumbs in the gray shorts and pulled them down. No underwear. His cock came out heavy. Long. Thick. Already half-hard. He grabbed the back of my head with one hand and pulled me forward.

“Balls first. Kiss the balls.”

I licked them. They were warm. Sweaty. He made me take one in my mouth, then the other, while he flexed the tattooed arm above me so I could still see it. Then he pulled me up by the hair and fed me his cock. No warning. The head hit the back of my throat on the first push. I gagged. He didn’t stop. Both hands on my head now. He fucked my face hard. Short, deep strokes. The curve wasn’t there — it was straight and long and he used all of it. Spit ran down my chin. Tears. Throat slime. He talked the whole time.

“This is what you wanted, right? Every time you looked at my arms. Every time you pretended you weren’t staring. Susan’s little brother on his knees with my dick in his throat. Yeah. Take it.”

He didn’t ease it in. Grabbed my hair with both hands and shoved. The head hit the back of my throat and kept going. I gagged hard. Spit poured out. He held me there for a second, then started fucking again. Brutal. Short strokes that used my throat like it was nothing. The tattooed arm stayed flexed above me the whole time. I could see the cat and the knots moving every time he thrust. 

Tears ran. He didn’t slow down. Just kept talking, low and mean, about how Susan never took it this deep, how she’d complained, how I wasn’t complaining. When he pulled out to come he aimed high. 

“Take my nut, little bitch. Don’t you dare run away. FUCK YEAH!”

The first rope hit my forehead and ran into my hair. The second crossed my nose. He stroked through it, grunting, covering my cheeks, my lips, my chin. Thick. Hot. It dripped onto my shirt before he was done. He watched the last of it land, then wiped the head across my lower lip and stood up.

“Tell your prude sister I got my stuff,” he said. “And don’t wipe that off until I’m gone.”

He left. The door shut. I stayed on my knees with his cum cooling on my face and the taste of his pits still in my mouth. My phone was on the couch. I didn’t touch it. I just breathed.