kaolin fire presents :: writing :: published :: thelasttohavesex.nfg.final.txt
To put it simply, Jerome was fat. His only erogenous zone was his mouth.
But putting it simply didn't do justice to the rolls of flesh he carted around daily, the sheen of sweat that trickled from his pits, his forehead, his belly.
Putting it simply didn't do justice to Jerome, for though he was simple of mind and large of body, _he was_, for better or worse, a human being. And despite appearances, an evolved human being.
His great bulk combined with his limited intellect had him living on disability; two checks a month and all he had to do was cash them. His mother owned the apartment complex he lived in, but he rarely saw her. He rarely saw anyone, at least, not in any social manner. He had nothing to do and no one to do it with.
Jerome liked to ride the underground to fill his time. He would ride up and down on his subsidized dollar fifty, watching people go to work or go home. Sometimes he would sleep there and sometimes he would go home to take a shower; no one accosted him. He had an aura about _his flesh_ that averted gazes and left him to himself. He could watch the other watchers with impunity.
If he grew tired of riding the rails and the weather was nice (which he gauged by what people were wearing) he would go up to the park and sit on a bench and continue his watching.
While he watched, he liked to chew a piece of gum, and he liked to fantasize. To him the piece of gum was a sexual organ - it could be a giant clit to be gently devoured, or a small penis to be cared for and nurtured with his tongue. He fantasized about the people he watched and they couldn't tell, except perhaps for the occasional dollop of spittle in the corner of his mouth.
Jerome was riding the rails today and thinking that he'd like to go to the park and watch the clouds go by. The clouds often coaxed his limited imagination into new fantasies. Opposite him in the car was a young man, in his twenties, clean cut and suited - the typical executive. He was fiddling with his watch, tapping at it and swearing under his breath. His suit was a bit wrinkled, and the newspaper under his arm looked fresh off his doorstep, still wrapped. Jerome looked around and didn't see any other executive types around. The guy was running late. The executive was handsome in a way that Jerome had always idealized - thin, with pale, flawless skin. He had a bit of a paunch but the expensive suit tucked it away perfectly. Jerome popped a fresh piece of gum in his mouth and began salivating into it.
The executive looked up, startled. His penis was slowly filling out, making a small tent in his pants. He coughed softly, unwrapped his newspaper and held it in front of his crotch. He looked around, hoping to see if there was some agent of beauty that had tapped his subconscious. The only thing that caught his eye was the fat man in the corner, watching him.
He flushed with disgust. He stared at a spot by the doors, telling himself he had only two more stops. Just two.
He felt a tongue whispering around his erection. There was just the right amount of pressure from his pants that it felt like his tip was resting at the back of someone's throat. He imagined it was Claudia, his ex - the bitch who would sooner put a bull's cock in her mouth than his. His thoughts couldn't hold the negativity for long, and soon it was all he could do to keep his hips from rocking with pleasure.
When the executive left, Jerome smiled and wiped a dollop of spittle from the corner of his mouth. It was salty. He wrapped it around his gum with his tongue and swallowed both. It was good. It always was.
It hurt a bit, getting in without trampling over anything, without jarring the mind too much. But he'd grown to like the pain, so entwined with the process. Guys were the easiest. Females tended to be suspicious of anything causing them arousal. He wanted more pain.
The doors opened. A college-age girl entered and sat behind him. She was hot. Likely stuck up and frigid too, Jerome thought. He pulled out a new piece of gum, pressed it into his mouth and smiled. Turning and shaping it, he worked it into a small clit with a long vulva. This was going to take a bit of work.
He heard her gasp as he flicked the clit with his tongue - the moment of contact gave him such a rush that he almost choked. He massaged the outer lips with his tongue, moving the shock down her inner thighs and into her toes. He could almost feel her flush.
Jessica couldn't understand what was happening to her. Her legs were all tingly and her crotch was gooey, but her period wasn't for another two weeks. Her nipples were swollen and painful. She fidgeted in her seat, resisting the urge to massage the pain out. Her short and curlies were starting to itch, making her want to scratch. She could feel her clit swelling along with her nipples. A white noise pulsated in her ears, and she was having difficulty breathing.
She forced herself to exhale fully, and inhale deeply. She choked. There were spots in her vision, so she closed her eyes. The rest of the car disappeared and all she sensed was the intense... feeling. Her breathing picked up a staccato rhythm. She couldn't tell if it was pleasure or pain - but it made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was the train that made her uncomfortable. Maybe... maybe she had to go to the bathroom.
The car came to a stop at the next station and she jumped out the second the doors opened.
Jerome watched her head straight for the restroom.
Decisions... to follow or not to follow. She was on the verge, and that was frustrating. He forced himself out of his seat and moved toward the doors. They tried to close around his flesh but between safety tolerances and the sweat soaking through his tight t-shirt, he slid through with a plop.
She couldn't believe she had to wait in line! For chrissakes, it was a subway, not a restaurant. And it was one of the grungiest public restrooms known to man. Her need faded for a moment, but returned a thousand fold. She gasped, a sharp squeal escaping her lips. She looked around, but the only person paying her any attention was a grotesquely fat man in an obscene t-shirt. He smiled, blew a slow bubble of gum, and popped it with his tongue.
Her clit exploded through the back of her skull, and she found herself being helped up from the floor by a young man who had been passing by. She hadn't wet herself, but she no longer needed the bathroom. Jessica excused herself and stumbled down the station to wait for the next train to carry her to school.
Jerome sucked the juices out of his gum and wondered what he was going to do - this was a blow to his routine. The park was several stops away, and he was in a part of town he'd never traveled topside... but he didn't want to get back on the same train as the girl. That could prove awkward. He could wait for the next train, but the previous two encounters had been so tasty that he wasn't certain if he could stand still.
He shrugged his massive flesh, swallowed his gum, and slowly went up the stairs to street level. He had to pause twice on his way up to catch his breath. Even in a rush, people avoided brushing against him.
He blinked profusely in the natural light of the sun. Sheltering his eyes with a sheet of flesh, he stumbled forward, trying to find a direction. The sun was above him, the light reflecting off mirrored surfaces, glass, the pavement... buildings stretched further than he could crane his neck. He strained his myopic eyes, trying to decide what the street signs read. Finally, standing still for too long, he leaned forward and began marching in a constant state of falling... his fat pushing him on to the next step, and the next.
After two blocks he was sure that he was going in the wrong direction. The street was dirtier, the sidewalk broken and the shops vacant. Looking back, panting from exertion, he could still see the glistening subway entrance. He was exhausted. He trudged another couple of steps toward the bus stop and collapsed onto a park bench. He wasn't lost - he'd taken no turns, and it had only been two blocks. He could set out and try again later.
Now he was sitting. Sitting was good. He was an observer again, no longer making a spectacle of himself. He relaxed and looked around. The place seemed empty.
He caught movement reflected in a window across the street, heard someone chuckle from off behind him. He turned around slowly. There were shapes skulking in the shadows of a nearby alley. Seeing as how he needed a rest, the chance to fantasize would help pass the time and give him energy.
He popped a piece of gum into his mouth and began to chew. His saliva was thick from lack of liquid - it would take him a while to stimulate his salivary glands and fill his mouth.
Paul continued to flip his dagger. He'd been flipping it all day, seeing how long he could keep it going and in what patterns. He'd do a flip, double, triple, double, flip, or a flip, triple, flip, double. He had nothing to do and wasn't in the mood anyway. His stooges were shooting the shit back and forth. He kept a close eye on both of them. If he didn't give them something to do soon, they were going to find something for themselves.
He glanced out to the street and noticed the mound piled onto the bus stop bench. They could have some good, clean fun now. He felt warmth in his blood as he held the dagger firmly in his hand, grinning, tossing an idea around and around. His stooges noticed something was up and fell silent.
The plan was short and simple - but as he told it, something changed. It took on a life of its own.
Paul watched the guys creep out of the alley and move toward the fat fuck on the bench. He felt an answering grow in his pants. His blood was pounding. He was ready for this - more pumped than he'd been in a long time.
The feeling in his pants grew. He had an overpowering urge to whip his dick out right there and go at it. What the hell was wrong with him? He clenched the knife in his hand and flowed with the rage. He'd take care of the fat fuck all right - or, he chuckled, the fat fuck was going to take care of him. Paul rubbed his crotch. Service with a smile.
Jerome saw the two coming up behind him out of the corner of his eye, but they didn't register as threats. The guy he was concentrating on stayed in the alley, and he was working him for all he could. The guy was a tough customer. Very resistant. Jerome imagined he came from a rich, religious background. That always added a certain tang to the proceedings.
The two guys surrounded him. Now they were threats. Jerome knew the best thing he could do was to be as non-threatening as possible. Maybe they wanted his wallet. He could part with his wallet. He'd be willing to do anything they wanted, even give them his gum. He had no way to defend himself. He shrugged and waited.
They pushed him toward the alley and he complied, all the while chewing and sucking his gum. He was forced to his knees, his arms twisted and pulled back. Standing before him was the object of his concentration. He smiled.
The next moment was a blur - there was a crack at the side of his head that rang his ears and knocked out his gum. Before he could bemoan the loss, there was something else in his mouth; larger, firmer, fleshier. He went down on it with vigor and finesse. This was his dream come true - well, perhaps not that - he'd never dreamed of being held and orally raped, but... this was flesh. This was what he had been fantasizing about his whole life. This was real.
He gagged a couple times but for the most part he held his own, bobbing and weaving, polishing the knob with the back of his throat. In his pleasure, greater than any he'd before felt, the slices to the sides of his neck held no significance; the pain added to the ecstasy - they made his chest tingle and flush, his eyes swim.
His last drab of consciousness was a hot white fire shooting down his throat straight into his belly, lighting his path to Heaven.
End
But putting it simply didn't do justice to the rolls of flesh he carted around daily, the sheen of sweat that trickled from his pits, his forehead, his belly.
Putting it simply didn't do justice to Jerome, for though he was simple of mind and large of body, _he was_, for better or worse, a human being. And despite appearances, an evolved human being.
His great bulk combined with his limited intellect had him living on disability; two checks a month and all he had to do was cash them. His mother owned the apartment complex he lived in, but he rarely saw her. He rarely saw anyone, at least, not in any social manner. He had nothing to do and no one to do it with.
Jerome liked to ride the underground to fill his time. He would ride up and down on his subsidized dollar fifty, watching people go to work or go home. Sometimes he would sleep there and sometimes he would go home to take a shower; no one accosted him. He had an aura about _his flesh_ that averted gazes and left him to himself. He could watch the other watchers with impunity.
If he grew tired of riding the rails and the weather was nice (which he gauged by what people were wearing) he would go up to the park and sit on a bench and continue his watching.
While he watched, he liked to chew a piece of gum, and he liked to fantasize. To him the piece of gum was a sexual organ - it could be a giant clit to be gently devoured, or a small penis to be cared for and nurtured with his tongue. He fantasized about the people he watched and they couldn't tell, except perhaps for the occasional dollop of spittle in the corner of his mouth.
Jerome was riding the rails today and thinking that he'd like to go to the park and watch the clouds go by. The clouds often coaxed his limited imagination into new fantasies. Opposite him in the car was a young man, in his twenties, clean cut and suited - the typical executive. He was fiddling with his watch, tapping at it and swearing under his breath. His suit was a bit wrinkled, and the newspaper under his arm looked fresh off his doorstep, still wrapped. Jerome looked around and didn't see any other executive types around. The guy was running late. The executive was handsome in a way that Jerome had always idealized - thin, with pale, flawless skin. He had a bit of a paunch but the expensive suit tucked it away perfectly. Jerome popped a fresh piece of gum in his mouth and began salivating into it.
* * *
The executive looked up, startled. His penis was slowly filling out, making a small tent in his pants. He coughed softly, unwrapped his newspaper and held it in front of his crotch. He looked around, hoping to see if there was some agent of beauty that had tapped his subconscious. The only thing that caught his eye was the fat man in the corner, watching him.
He flushed with disgust. He stared at a spot by the doors, telling himself he had only two more stops. Just two.
He felt a tongue whispering around his erection. There was just the right amount of pressure from his pants that it felt like his tip was resting at the back of someone's throat. He imagined it was Claudia, his ex - the bitch who would sooner put a bull's cock in her mouth than his. His thoughts couldn't hold the negativity for long, and soon it was all he could do to keep his hips from rocking with pleasure.
* * *
When the executive left, Jerome smiled and wiped a dollop of spittle from the corner of his mouth. It was salty. He wrapped it around his gum with his tongue and swallowed both. It was good. It always was.
It hurt a bit, getting in without trampling over anything, without jarring the mind too much. But he'd grown to like the pain, so entwined with the process. Guys were the easiest. Females tended to be suspicious of anything causing them arousal. He wanted more pain.
The doors opened. A college-age girl entered and sat behind him. She was hot. Likely stuck up and frigid too, Jerome thought. He pulled out a new piece of gum, pressed it into his mouth and smiled. Turning and shaping it, he worked it into a small clit with a long vulva. This was going to take a bit of work.
He heard her gasp as he flicked the clit with his tongue - the moment of contact gave him such a rush that he almost choked. He massaged the outer lips with his tongue, moving the shock down her inner thighs and into her toes. He could almost feel her flush.
* * *
Jessica couldn't understand what was happening to her. Her legs were all tingly and her crotch was gooey, but her period wasn't for another two weeks. Her nipples were swollen and painful. She fidgeted in her seat, resisting the urge to massage the pain out. Her short and curlies were starting to itch, making her want to scratch. She could feel her clit swelling along with her nipples. A white noise pulsated in her ears, and she was having difficulty breathing.
She forced herself to exhale fully, and inhale deeply. She choked. There were spots in her vision, so she closed her eyes. The rest of the car disappeared and all she sensed was the intense... feeling. Her breathing picked up a staccato rhythm. She couldn't tell if it was pleasure or pain - but it made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was the train that made her uncomfortable. Maybe... maybe she had to go to the bathroom.
* * *
The car came to a stop at the next station and she jumped out the second the doors opened.
Jerome watched her head straight for the restroom.
Decisions... to follow or not to follow. She was on the verge, and that was frustrating. He forced himself out of his seat and moved toward the doors. They tried to close around his flesh but between safety tolerances and the sweat soaking through his tight t-shirt, he slid through with a plop.
* * *
She couldn't believe she had to wait in line! For chrissakes, it was a subway, not a restaurant. And it was one of the grungiest public restrooms known to man. Her need faded for a moment, but returned a thousand fold. She gasped, a sharp squeal escaping her lips. She looked around, but the only person paying her any attention was a grotesquely fat man in an obscene t-shirt. He smiled, blew a slow bubble of gum, and popped it with his tongue.
Her clit exploded through the back of her skull, and she found herself being helped up from the floor by a young man who had been passing by. She hadn't wet herself, but she no longer needed the bathroom. Jessica excused herself and stumbled down the station to wait for the next train to carry her to school.
* * *
Jerome sucked the juices out of his gum and wondered what he was going to do - this was a blow to his routine. The park was several stops away, and he was in a part of town he'd never traveled topside... but he didn't want to get back on the same train as the girl. That could prove awkward. He could wait for the next train, but the previous two encounters had been so tasty that he wasn't certain if he could stand still.
He shrugged his massive flesh, swallowed his gum, and slowly went up the stairs to street level. He had to pause twice on his way up to catch his breath. Even in a rush, people avoided brushing against him.
He blinked profusely in the natural light of the sun. Sheltering his eyes with a sheet of flesh, he stumbled forward, trying to find a direction. The sun was above him, the light reflecting off mirrored surfaces, glass, the pavement... buildings stretched further than he could crane his neck. He strained his myopic eyes, trying to decide what the street signs read. Finally, standing still for too long, he leaned forward and began marching in a constant state of falling... his fat pushing him on to the next step, and the next.
After two blocks he was sure that he was going in the wrong direction. The street was dirtier, the sidewalk broken and the shops vacant. Looking back, panting from exertion, he could still see the glistening subway entrance. He was exhausted. He trudged another couple of steps toward the bus stop and collapsed onto a park bench. He wasn't lost - he'd taken no turns, and it had only been two blocks. He could set out and try again later.
Now he was sitting. Sitting was good. He was an observer again, no longer making a spectacle of himself. He relaxed and looked around. The place seemed empty.
He caught movement reflected in a window across the street, heard someone chuckle from off behind him. He turned around slowly. There were shapes skulking in the shadows of a nearby alley. Seeing as how he needed a rest, the chance to fantasize would help pass the time and give him energy.
He popped a piece of gum into his mouth and began to chew. His saliva was thick from lack of liquid - it would take him a while to stimulate his salivary glands and fill his mouth.
* * *
Paul continued to flip his dagger. He'd been flipping it all day, seeing how long he could keep it going and in what patterns. He'd do a flip, double, triple, double, flip, or a flip, triple, flip, double. He had nothing to do and wasn't in the mood anyway. His stooges were shooting the shit back and forth. He kept a close eye on both of them. If he didn't give them something to do soon, they were going to find something for themselves.
He glanced out to the street and noticed the mound piled onto the bus stop bench. They could have some good, clean fun now. He felt warmth in his blood as he held the dagger firmly in his hand, grinning, tossing an idea around and around. His stooges noticed something was up and fell silent.
The plan was short and simple - but as he told it, something changed. It took on a life of its own.
Paul watched the guys creep out of the alley and move toward the fat fuck on the bench. He felt an answering grow in his pants. His blood was pounding. He was ready for this - more pumped than he'd been in a long time.
The feeling in his pants grew. He had an overpowering urge to whip his dick out right there and go at it. What the hell was wrong with him? He clenched the knife in his hand and flowed with the rage. He'd take care of the fat fuck all right - or, he chuckled, the fat fuck was going to take care of him. Paul rubbed his crotch. Service with a smile.
* * *
Jerome saw the two coming up behind him out of the corner of his eye, but they didn't register as threats. The guy he was concentrating on stayed in the alley, and he was working him for all he could. The guy was a tough customer. Very resistant. Jerome imagined he came from a rich, religious background. That always added a certain tang to the proceedings.
The two guys surrounded him. Now they were threats. Jerome knew the best thing he could do was to be as non-threatening as possible. Maybe they wanted his wallet. He could part with his wallet. He'd be willing to do anything they wanted, even give them his gum. He had no way to defend himself. He shrugged and waited.
They pushed him toward the alley and he complied, all the while chewing and sucking his gum. He was forced to his knees, his arms twisted and pulled back. Standing before him was the object of his concentration. He smiled.
The next moment was a blur - there was a crack at the side of his head that rang his ears and knocked out his gum. Before he could bemoan the loss, there was something else in his mouth; larger, firmer, fleshier. He went down on it with vigor and finesse. This was his dream come true - well, perhaps not that - he'd never dreamed of being held and orally raped, but... this was flesh. This was what he had been fantasizing about his whole life. This was real.
He gagged a couple times but for the most part he held his own, bobbing and weaving, polishing the knob with the back of his throat. In his pleasure, greater than any he'd before felt, the slices to the sides of his neck held no significance; the pain added to the ecstasy - they made his chest tingle and flush, his eyes swim.
His last drab of consciousness was a hot white fire shooting down his throat straight into his belly, lighting his path to Heaven.
End
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