A Big Dick in the Fashion World

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models

By Cristiano Caffieri

When 18-year-old Damon Yates applied for a Saturday job at a fashionable women’s boutique he had no inkling of what he was in for. Let’s just say that the store had some small quirks. Annette DuBois, the Chicago born and bread owner, had a distinct French accent and wore a sequined beret. The multi-accented proprietor would have preferred a young woman for the position but Damon’s father was her therapist and baguette-baking buddy so she felt obligated.

“This job is for a gofer, mon petit garcon.” Annette Parisianally explained, “Saturday is always our Fashion Show Day and my models work tres, trey hard, so when zey need anything – you flit, flit, flit and go-and-do-it – whether ‘tis cafe, hairspray or ze celery sticks. Zey might also require some petite assistance getting their tres beau dresses on. Do you comprend?”

Damon nodded, “Yes – I understand, I mean comprend perfectly.”

The models in question were not particularly impressed with Damon on that first day. He was skinny, wore thick glasses and his hair looked like he’d insulted his barber. However, despite his less than smokin’ hot appearance, he turned out to be very efficient and polite and so by the end of the day their icy attitude had begun to melt.

Being a gofer for a bevy of beautiful ladies was a surprisingly stressful job. Every time he entered the dressing room, there would be at least one of the models with her perfect breasts unadorned or sashaying around in a microscopic thong. Try as he might to keep his beleaguered libido in check, Damon developed and unfortunate boner which caused him to have difficulty walking.

After a long day of swinging their hips and pouting, the six half-naked and totally exhausted models sat around sipping low calorie water and nibbling on air cookies. As Jani, a very tall and slim goddess, reached over for her forehead ice, she caught sight of the enormous bulge in their young assistant’s pants.

“Hey, look at Damon,” she giggled, “We’ve given the poor lad an enormous woody.”

Now, the boutique’s mostly ignored employee was the absolute center of attention for standing at attention.

“So which one of us is that big boy in honor of?” Mahala inquired, suggestively, massaging her right nipple.

“Well, all of you, really,” he blushed.

“It’s a shame to see him all crushed up in there, like that,” she sympathetically observed. “Why don’t you let it out and give it some air?”

“I, ah, don’t think Ms. DuBois would like that?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d understand. She wouldn’t want the little fella to suffocate.”

“That fella ain’t that little,” Jani laughed.

“Go on Mahala, be an angel of mercy and give it mouth-to-mouth resuscitation before it’s too late.”

Damon, desperately looked around for a handy exit but alas, he was cornered. The blood that wasn’t propping up his aching erection rushed immediately to his face as the topless Mahala seductively advanced towards him. She licked his cheek playfully and gave the shaft of his meat stick a gentle squeeze. “Now you just relax and Mahala will take care of everything. Did you think you can do that Damon?”

He nodded his head shyly, afraid to move.

“First, I want you to put those bashful hands of yours on my tits and kiss me.”

Damon felt her warm, puffy lips press hard against his as her probing tongue slithered into his mouth. This girl certainly knew what she was doing. Before he knew it, his pants were somehow down around his knees while she was still kissing him.

“Just concentrate on those beautiful, silky breasts,” he nervously told himself but it was impossible not to hear the other models cheer as Mahala released his manhood from its confinement.

“Nice foreskin!” someone yelled.

“I get dibs on his balls,” chortled another.

The scrawny kid continued to impress.

“He’s got a bigger dick than my boyfriend,” cried Sandy, “And he’s six foot four.”

“You can put your hand in my pussy, if you’d like,” Mahala whispered into his crimson ear.

She had amazingly removed her thong without him noticing. This woman was a magician!

The girls moved in closer as Damon’s fingers felt the warm wet dew of her womanhood. He slid his hand over her buttery labia, coating his fingers with her sweet and sticky nectar. Again her tongue entered his mouth. During that scorching, sultry kiss, her delicate hand taunted and teased his penis, rubbing and then squeezing, pausing then stroking.

“Do you like that?” she smiled knowingly.

His throat was to dry to speak, so he just nodded his head.

“Then you’re going to love this,” she continued and dropped to her knees.

Damon was now in the middle of a crowd of naked women. They pressed their breasts and thighs against him as Mahala placed his penis between her parted lips and licked the underside of his swollen knob. The warm wet feel of her rapturous oral ministrations lit up his cock like a Las Vegas hotel. Little rivulets of pleasure wrapped around his hips and cascaded down his legs. A whirl of activity spun around him like a titillating tornado. Sandy pulled a finger out of her vagina and slipped it up has ass. Another girl was tickling his scrotum. Yvonne began to hump his left thigh with her glistening mommy mound. Damon could see a couple of the shyer girls masturbating and kissing each other.

It was all too much. His pelvis began to gyrate uncontrollably, his breathing became labored. That familiar sensation began to grow in the head of his penis, only it continued to rise far higher than he’d ever experienced. Damon’s face went white and his vision blurred. It was only the naked girls pressing against him that kept him able to stand.

“Wow, stand back, Damnon’s going to blow!”

And that he did. Finally, blessed release fire-hosed gush after gush of steaming hot baby-makers onto Mahala’s tongue. Yvonne lightly tickled his nutsack to get every last tadpole out of his man-pond.

When Damon finished filling Mahala’s mouth with his salty splooge, she turned to soul kiss Sandy. The cum oozed between their interlocked lips and dripped down their chins only to be licked clean by Yvonne. Damon took advantage of the girl’s attention being elsewhere and dropped to the ground exhausted and spent.

“That was yummy,” declared Yvonne, “Have you got any left?” The assembled pulchritude gazed down to assess his chances of re-inflation.

“Well, if anyone can get him going again, it’s you,” observed Sandy.

“I don’t get what’s so hard,” puzzled Yvonne. “I just made myself cum a few seconds ago and I’m ready, horny and able. How ‘bout it Damon, ready to put that lap lizard of yours into a real woman?”

“I’ll get him started for you,” offered Jani, getting down on the floor and scooping up his flaccid member in her mouth. Within a few seconds of absolutely expert sucking, she could feel his cock begin to regain consciousness. There was just something about having a man’s penis slowly growing inside her head that made Jani’s pudding machine start to bubble. After a few short minutes of puffing on his pee-pee, chewing on his chubby and puttering about his pork sword, Damon’s rocket was once again ready for liftoff.

Sandy and Mahala now laid him out on the floor like a sacrificial offering to the gods. Yvonne then straddled his loins, hanging her pleasure-hole over his twitching organ like the Sword-Swallower of Damocles. There is a magical moment when the tip of a chicken wing first touches the sauce and, bit by bit, it begins to disappear into the thick, rich, tasty gravy. What an astounding, awe-inspiring orifice is the vagina. For men and women alike, since time immemorial, have braved crucibles unimaginable, just for the chance to bathe themselves in the untold pleasures that lie within.

Now it was Damon’s turn. He gasped as Yvonne completed her long descent onto his dick and full penetration had been reached. The malleable model began to grind her moist muff against hilt of his stilt. The girls called out “Ride him Cowboy” but all sound had been drowned out by the hunger between her legs. She grabbed his hands roughly and placed them on her hips. “I’m getting close. Stick your fingernails in my ass cheeks… Harder than that!”

Damon did his best go comply. Things had built up to an unsettling intensity on top of him. Yvonne’s eyed slammed shut as she humped his loins with such a frenzied fury it made him fear injury is disfigurement. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she called out as her faced crinkled in seeming agony. And suddenly the moment was upon her. What started out as a twinge in her minge quickly transmogriphied into a stage five gale as it stormed up her vaginal canal battered her uterus. Her cunt was ablaze. Her tits were in shambles. She was cumming in places she’d never experienced before. Gigantic, gut wrenching climactic blasts devastated her torso. Her clitoris was undulating like an accordion. Drool dripped from her drooping jaw as the last, final spasms surceased.

It took three girls to lift her naked remains off Damon’s womb-walloped willy. While Yvette tried to get her breath back, Sandra made a discovery. “Hey, he hasn’t cum yet, he’s still hard.”

Before he could get up and hide, Jani mounted him and the whole penis-punishing process began anew.

A half-an-hour and several more acts of harrowing hedonism later, Damon was leaning against the sofa, gingerly putting his clothes back on. Sandy marched over to him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “My turn first next week OK? And I promise to be far more gentle than the rest of these horny bitches.”

Damon nodded his head weakly and wondered to himself if the local McDonald’s was hiring.

THE END

Copyright 2013 Cristiano Caffieri

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