Diagnosis: Hung

Diagnosis:Hung

By Anastasia

and Veronica Divine
Interview days are, quite simply, exhausting. Placing my black framed glasses aside the tilted stack of applications and resumes, I leaned back in my high backed leather chair, my fingers caressing the corners of my closed eyes, pinching the bridge of my petite, slender nose, making sure not to muss my eye shadow. My full lips hung agape, my mouth drying with each deep, slow inhalation that caused my prodigious chest to rise on my chest, stretching the striped white blouse whose buttons were already clinging to their sockets, the top four simply unable to clasp over my immense, pert 36FF cup bust. Of fifteen candidates, each requiring as little as ten and as much as thirty minutes per interview, every one turned to jelly at the mere sight of my mountainous mammories; not that I’m insulted, they’re almost sagless despite their enormous size, dropping into perfect teardrops when released from the creaking, lace bra containing them. I have magnificent tits; it’d just be nice to know the two nights each week in spin class weren’t being wasted by getting a compliment about my firm, rounded ass or shapely, toned legs. One of out ten would suffice.
My fingertips rubbed at my neck, just below the earlobe, manicured nails trailing at the clip of my earring, massaging the pale, porcelain skin of my neck as I stole a moment to relax, brushing my fingers up through my lustrous, fiery locks that poured like a waterfall crashing on my slim shoulders. Decompressing from the latest failed applicant, a scrawny grad student with an oily complexion, my mind wandered onto the impetus of this entire ordeal.
* * *
“ Jesus, Ronnie, if we don’t get a new treadmill in here, I’m going to cause a terrorist attack,” Lacy moaned, tossing her stethoscope onto the counter of the break-room before slumping into the chair beside my own. “And then that’s on your conscience. I’ll tell Fox News it was all your fault.”
“ I know it goes against your nature, but try to be a big girl Lacy, huh. For me.”
“ I’m trying to be a big girl, but we don’t have a stallion for me to steal back to my office to fuck for an hour.” Her voice raised an octave as she crossed her arms under her full chest, larger than it should have been for her tall, lithe frame. My cool emerald eyes widened, my pillowy lips tensing as I stared darts into her hazel eyes. Lacy was the amazon of our staff, ignoring their ancient tribal inclination to sever one breast to aid in archery accuracy, standing a sliver below six feet. I was the next tallest girl in the office at only 5’8”. She had supported herself through grad school as a part time model and the daily crunches and free weight work clearly became habitual, every striation noticeable from even the most subtle movement. Her physique retained its hourglass curvature, building sinewy muscle to develop her figure instead of simply losing weight.
“ She’s right, in her own way.” The throaty heavily accented voice came from behind me, wafting from Denise’s figure in the doorway, her scrubs hiding her curvy figure, dark hair pulled back to reveal her flawless skin, radiating even under the fluorescents in the office. She was dangerously petite, but toned; a certified massage therapist who I can personally attest could work out the deepest kinks. “There’s something in the air, I don’t know. It’s worse than last year and last year we had Intern Austin.”
Standing, I straightened my blouse; the opened flaps framing a canyon of cleavage so thick and deep, even my head nurse and P.A. glanced down for a moment. “Flu season’s in the air. You’re both too old for me to be buying you sex toys. Intern Austin was an exception because he was useless otherwise. I’m going to relieve Candace at check-in, in the mean time, pretty please, with sugar on top, get your brains out of your cunts long enough to do your jobs this afternoon!”
But, that afternoon was hell. With one ear attached to the phone, trying to keep up with insurance providers, I routinely snapped my fingers to avert incoming patient’s gazes from my chest to my smoldering eyes as I prodded them for pertinent information. Noon to five in a blur, I didn’t even look up until Candace was giving the lobby a quick-vac once over.
“ Hey, Candi,” my voice barely escaped my lips, its usual syrupy thickness cracking, my throat sore and hoarse. She glanced over without speaking, her dark eyes heavy framed in her caramel skin, her scrubs tight on the curving figure, plump like an acoustic guitar. “Do me a favor before taking off for the weekend, put together any apps we have on file.”
“ Are we getting a new Intern Austin?”
“ We’ll see, make sure it’s only the discreet and professionals. Our secret for now.”
With the sun setting over the glittering cityscape, I escaped the office, taking refuge in a classy bar a block down the way called the Gilded Rose. The prices were high enough to keep out the kids, but it maintained an exuberant vibe to turn off the yuppie douches. I nursed my merlot, feeling the eyes of the men from the booth across the bar locked on the swell and heave of my breasts, my cleavage so deep and luscious I could hear low gasps with each deep breath, the buttons of my blouse threatening to rip from the blouse’s fabric. With the evening rush still hours away, the bar staff was contracted, but I felt feisty after the long day and when I saw the bus boy strolling by, I slid my forefinger against the stem of my goblet and pushed it off the edge of the table.
It shattered at his feet, which rooted into the wood floor, cool blue eyes glancing over into my own. “Sorry, how clumsy of me.” My voice poured out from between my lips, the corners twitching, feigning that they may curl at any moment into a lascivious grin, but never quite doing so. He was built as if by a sculptor, his jaw jagged, lips thin with high cheek bones and a crop of glinting black hair atop his head. His shoulders blossomed from his body, thick and round with sinewy, bulging arms stretching down along a wide chest that tapered down into a trim waist. An apron wrapped about his waist, though his pants clung tightly to his defined legs, each rippling with thick cords of muscle.
“ Didn’t like your wine?”
“ It was wonderful: rich, robust, I think maybe I was just hoping for something a little…stronger,” I said, my emerald eyes exploring his physique, my arms sliding in against my bust, deepening my cleavage, giving him a look deep into the canyon as it tightened into a slit between my swelling melons.
“ Maybe we can find something different for you, something off menu.” His voice never wavered, his eyes glancing down into my valley but returning to my own and only then my lips finally curled.
I slipped a fifty from my purse and placed it upon the table for the wine, standing I found him several inches taller than me, my lips brushing his ear, making sure my whisper was low, reverberating on his skin. “There’s a black Audi TT parked adjacent, bring the strongest thing you’ve got.” Strolling out, my heels clicked on the wood graining, I never looked back but made sure that if he was staring he saw the sway of my full, perky ass as my hips swayed, each foot clicking in front of the other.
Outside, the chilly autumn air had caused the windows to fog and as a few moments stretched into minutes; I began to sift through my e-mail on the Droid, wondering if I’d scared the boy away. His knuckles rapped lightly on the window, and he offered a vintage bottle of XO when I lowered the window. “It took me a little bit to find something worthwhile,” he said, my full lips curling as I unlocked the passenger door and watched him saunter around the front of the car, slipping in beside me.
“ Admittedly, I was hoping for something less bottled,” I purred, glancing over at him as I replaced my phone into my purse. He slumped slightly in his seat, awful posture which, worse yet, concealed any bulge in his pants as the fabric ripples about his hips and across his pelvis. Proving not too dense, he slid his hands over his waistband, unclasping his pants and sliding out of them as he fidgeted between the seats and slid into the back. It was a single, graceful motion so not until I turned in my chair, looking back, did I notice the thick shaft hanging limp out the end of his boxer briefs, the girth causing the cotton fabric to stretch around it, the head brushing his cleanly shaven, rippling thigh. “That’s a big fucking cock,” my voice cracked, escaping my plush lips in a whisper.
He smirked, stroking his hand over the bulging rod and then curling a finger to beckon me back to join him. Not nearly as polished, my breasts swaying in my blouse as I slid over the center console, straddling his legs and slithering up, inhaling the musky, masculine aroma of his man meat. His fingers lifted from his engorging dick, brushing their backs against my cheek and sifting into my fiery red hair, gently pulling my face down to his thigh. His deep voice echoed in my ears when he asked, almost offhandedly, “You were aching for something from the source, then?”
Nodding, I brushed my plump lips against the flaring helmet, not pursing but merely to let him feel the soft flesh drag on his cockhead. I was the one who groaned when I felt his meat pole begin to twitch, hardening and stretching against my mouth, thickening under the fabric of his boxers and pushing out down his thigh. My lips smeared on his helmet, suckling about the eyelet, tasting the salty sweet precum as it dribbled out, my hands massaging his oak tree thighs, supporting my weight and exploring each deeply defined striation. From my lustrous mane, his hands slid down my shoulders and smeared under the flaps of my blouse, popping the buttons open and cupping my enormous breasts, each overfilling his hand, but the strength in his fingers let him knead through my black laced bra to maul my boobs.
My fingers dribbled up his thighs, clasping the waistband of his boxers and peeling them down his substantial thighs, freeing his schlong from their fabric constraint. The smell engulfed me, permeating through the car, that intoxicating bouquet of masculinity eliciting a purr from my lips as the tip of my tongue slithered up the length of his shaft, the head pushing into the cleft of my cleavage while my lips spread, suckling at the bulbous base. I rocked gently, slurping along the top of his meat rod, letting his fuck tool dig into my cleavage while his hands groped my funbags, massaging his own cock with my huge, pert tits.
“ Seems like someone’s a whore for genuinely big cock,” he said and he was right, my mind was hazy, all the minutiae of the day cascading away as I devoted each of my senses to enjoy his cock, a stranger’s cock, for no other reason than it was gigantic and he absolutely knew it. His hands tugged me in, helping me rock forward and back in his lap as his drill plunged into my cleavage, engulfed in warm tit flesh while my lips slurped at his cock root, slithering my tongue along the edge to tease the edge of his scrotum, purring at the potency of their salty taste on my tongue. Feeling the moisture on his sac, he pushed me back and lifted his erect cock, the tip stretching up to touch his own bulging pecs under the second skin of a tee clinging to every sharp cut in his muscled physique. He never even spoke but we both knew and I sank down, lowering my face between his thighs and parted me lips, taking one of his lemon sized testes into my wet, warm mouth. The corners of my lips ached as I forced them to spread around his immense nuts, sucking firmly on the tight skin. One hand cupped at the crown of my head, holding my face smothered against his huge balls, his cock twitching and slapping deftly against my cheek. I could feel the moisture welling in my thong as his scent and the sheer size of his sex tool overwhelmed me, smearing my lips from one sac to the other, sucking the saltiness from each one, slathering my tongue over the freshly shaved flesh.
My lips were still spread, slurping at his scrotum when he lifted up in the backseat, swaying back and forth to drag his heavy hangers across my face, smothering me in his pungent seed makers. My tongue snaked out between my lips, slathering flush over his sac, licking the tip from his taint up over the bulging balls to the root of his giant cock. Sinking back down, his hands returned my lustrous locks, pushing me away to let his meat pole lower like a cannon, the length stretching down to his knees, precum burbling from his eyelit as he smeared it against my lips, spreading them and pushing the flaring head into my smoldering mouth. Cooing at the pressure on the corners of my mouth once more, I felt the ridge of his bulbous helmet push into my mouth, forcing my jaw open. My tongue lavished his cockhead with appreciation of its sheer size, his lips curled in a smirk while his cold blue eyes pierced into my own, watching me fawn over his huge mastodon. “Doesn’t matter how stuck up she might be, give her 18” of the thickest fuck tool she’s ever seen and every woman becomes a wanton little whore. Isn’t that right, Ms. Whoever-you-are?”
My head nodded on instinct as my hands massaged the length of his immense cock, stroking my fingers along the searing skin in small circles, twisting my hands around the girth, unable to fully grip it. His hips began to gyrate slowly, his hands cupping my head at the crown, craning it back to give himself a direct canal through my mouth into my throat. Needy for more of his thick meat, I rocked slowly on the console of the car, grinding my dripping pussy over the wood grained finish. As he tugged my head closer, impaling my mouth with his throbbing instrument, I could see the muscles thicken in his arms, his biceps bulging into softballs from the simple crooking motion. He began a steady rhythm, his globular cockhead bumping into my uvula before penetrating into my tight throat, digging down into my gullet, my lips pursed and smearing over his shaft, saliva dribbling down my chin as I slurped as hard as I could. As he dictated pace, my fingers roamed over his root, sliding along the edge of his cock to again cup his groaning gonads, each thickened with the skin gripping tightly as they filled with cream. My nostrils flared when he stuffed his cock down my throat, holding it there, forcing me to hold my breath, and desperately trying to get whatever wisps of oxygen I could through his gigantic horsecock. My body rocked in unison with his own, my face flush, eyes glancing up into his as my eyelids fluttered, suddenly feeling my legs tense, my clit digging at the console. Suddenly, my lips spread, squirting into my thong, my lips vibrating around his pole as my orgasm shot through me like electricity. I sputtered out my moaning lust, eyes rolling back, cumming like a geyser just from sucking his mammoth Mandingo.
“ That’s a girl, cum on this big fucker.” His voice billowed with confidence, his hands still digging in my hair as he used my mouth and throat as a sex toy, humping my face for his own pleasure, reassured from my reaction that my pleasure was obvious. His sac pulsed in my palms and the first salvo of his cream blasted down my throat, the throb through his cock felt like it would tear my mouth open. Before the second, he pushed my face back, letting me watch his saliva soaked sex pole pulsate and spurt a full blast of chowder onto my face, coating my eyes. A third spunk missile exploded on my nose and then he aimed lower, hitting my throat and blasting into my cleavage, the already pale skin painted with his viscous seed.
My whole body shivered, slumping into the passenger seat fetal, my fingers sliding over my cum-covered countenance, tasting the cream gravy he left on my skin. Musky and thick, I lapped every drop I could from my skin, purring as I slurped each finger in succession. I felt his pants rub against my skin, hearing his buckle clasp before the door opened. “Wha—wait,” I began, almost pleadingly.
“ Break’s over, babe,” was all he said, slipping his powerful frame up through the door and closing it behind himself. I watched him disappear around the corner of the parking lot back toward the bar, my legs pulled in against myself, my hands slowly cupping my own mammoth melons, feeling the warm cum in my deep cleavage.
The weekend skittered by like a bore, my body tingling all the while, remembering the simple phrase ‘eighteen inch fuck tool’. It reverberated in my memory through Monday, suffering through interviews, suddenly and certainly for the inferior unfortunates, unfairly, judging each against the bus boy who’d left just the slightest hint of redness at the corners of my full lips.
* * *
Fifteen interviews and every single one had been a waste of time. Candi rapped her fingers on my open door as she stepped over the threshold of my office, a glint in her eyes. “Ms. Divine,” she began, “someone’s just submitted a resume, he was wondering if you had a moment to look it over.”
I exhaled in a huff, my face resting in my palm as I extended my free hand, curling my fingers for her to show him in. He glided in with a subtle grace despite his physique, one I’d recognize in an instant. My lips parted as I saw him again, the wicked smirk curling his lips as he looked down my blouse the same way he had in the bar. Behind him, Candi held up crossed fingers before closing the door behind herself on the way out.
His shirt clung tightly to the bulging biceps and rounded shoulders, his broad chest stretching the fabric when he inhaled. His pants did little to conceal the thick thighs of corded muscle and less in regards to the bulge pluming from his pelvis. The dark hair was styled atop his granite chiseled features, but his eyes confirmed it, those cold, wintry blue eyes.
“ I recognized your car out front and thought if you were accepting applicants…”
“ We are–,” I glanced down to his resume to finally find his name, “Arsen. Tell me, what positions would you see yourself filling?”
“ All of them,” he said, staring into my eyes with that calm confidence, trying to match it, but under the table, I squirmed in my seat, my thighs pressing together tightly in sheer lust and somehow it was obvious that he knew it.