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Jonas - Part Three

Tags: mf
The saga of a man with an unusual gift.
Lunch was a quiet affair. Jonas and Hannah ate in companionable silence, enjoying the excellent food the house chef had prepared for them. Hannah stole many a secret glance at her host; she was trying to conceal how aroused his story had made her, but it wasn't easy. Her mind kept drifting to thoughts of his enormous cock, and what it would feel like pressing into her tight, wet sex... She tried to push away such unprofessional images, but every time he caught her eye she trembled with desire.

"We fucked a lot," he said softly, after the lunch things had been cleared away and they sat peaceably, drinking coffee.

"E-excuse me?" Hannah stammered.

"Jane and I. We did just about everything you can imagine, or tried it at least. We pleasured one another for hours - for days, it felt like. Every chance I had, I would go over to her apartment and we would go straight to bed." He smiled, a boyish grin that made Hannah's heart flutter. "Or the shower, or the jacuzzi, but you get my drift."

"I do," she whispered.

"I was happy, and so was she. But then, things began to get complicated."

Hannah pushed the button on her recorder and settled back in her chair.


It was a cold night - a chill wind was blowing in off the sea, and there was the promise of ice before morning. I got off the bus a few streets from Jane's apartment and walked my usual route. I grinned at the doorman as I arrived, and he buzzed me through into the lobby with a weary shake of his head and a wry smile. I took the lift up to the eighth floor, my cock already hardening in my jeans as I considered the erotic possibilities of another night in the arms of my angel.

I knocked on the door, and it opened a moment later. I blinked. It wasn't Jane.

"Well, what have we here?" The woman who answered the door was stunning - blonde, a little shorter than Jane, with a delicate elfin face and a broad, mischievous grin. The very first thing that a person would notice about her, however, were her enormous tits, giant glistening mounds of flesh that struggled to escape her thin shirt. Where Jane was well-endowed, this woman was wonderfully, insanely exaggerated - the combination of her round, basketball-sized breasts and her tiny, trim waist gave her the sexual allure of a real-life Barbie doll.

"Uh, is Jane home?"

"She's just stepped out, sweetie, she'll be back in a minute or two. Come on in. You must be Jonas. Jane's told me all about you," she added with a suggestive glance at my crotch. I coloured slightly and followed her into the apartment, trying not to watch her round, curvy ass twitch under the micro-skirt. "I'm Kitty, by the way. Jane and I have been friends since we were B-cups, sweetie." I smiled awkwardly at the joke and we sat on the couch. I glanced at her astonishing cleavage and shifted uncomfortably. It seemed as if the tiniest exertion on her part would cause the buttons to explode off the top and her tits would burst free into the room.

"They're fake," she said suddenly, and I met her gaze.


"They're fake. My tits. You were staring, I thought you were trying to figure them out. Want to see?"

"No, it's - uh, no, I'll just wait for Jane."

"Oh, don't be silly, Jane's not a prude. Come on, I'll show you mine if you show me yours! They're 36GGs, sweetie, you don't get an offer like that every day!" Without waiting for my response, she deftly undid the strained buttons and pulled her shirt open, revealing her titanic breasts in all their considerable glory. I was dumb-struck. Her nipples were as immense as the surrounding globes of flesh - easily an inch long, hard and proud and exciting. "You like?" she asked girlishly, shaking her shoulders and making those beautiful tits jiggle before me.

"I do," I answered, unable to tear my gaze away from them.

"Good - c'mon then, get your jeans off and let me see that big fuck-stick I've heard so much about!"

"I don't -" I began, but it was too late. Kitty was suddenly on her knees before me, fumbling with my belt, her hands already clutching the bulge at the front of my trousers. I responded: I couldn't help it, this woman was a fantasy made flesh, her body designed exclusively for hot, relentless sex.

With a moan of appreciation, she pulled my thick meat from my jeans and stroked it eagerly with both hands, the tip rising toward her scarlet lips as she squeezed and pumped the growing flesh. Then, with a wicked grin, she took my shaft and rubbed the moist tip against her hot, soft tits; shrugged her shoulders to encase my cock between her breasts and licked at the tip as it emerged with each ragged thrust. I was utterly helpless - and then, suddenly, she stood up. I thought our game was over, and I began to protest, but she shushed me.

"You can't tempt Kitty's kitty with a beast like that and not let her play - just sit still, honey, I'll make it good for you!" She stepped up onto the couch, one foot on either side of my hips, and, without ceremony, lowered her hot sex toward the head of my cock. With a grateful moan, she popped the head of the shaft into her, and slowly, smoothly, slid down me all the way to the base. "Fu-uck," she moaned sexily. "Darling, you're a fucking horse. A fat horse-dick, fucking the naughty farm girl!"

"Am I?" I gasped, marvelling at her body's capacity to take every inch of my dick.

"You're a fucking stallion!" she panted, beginning to lift her hips and thrust onto me again. "You're stretching me so fucking go-ood!"

I barely moved as Kitty bounced enthusiastically on my cock, swallowing more and more of my enormous length comfortably, an expression of unutterable bliss on her face. Her heavy tits were magnficient, and a sheen of sweat covered her tanned skin. I began to respond automatically as she pounded toward orgasm, and I reached up and roughly massaged her breasts as the cum started to rise -

I don't know what made me look up; all I remember is seeing Jane standing by the door, her eyes wide.

"Fuck!" I gasped. "Jane, darling, it's not what it looks like!" I struggled to lift Kitty off me, but she merely grinned wickedly and ground her hips hard against me. I felt sick. How could I have been so stupid, so fucking stupid that I would cheat on the only woman I would ever love? It was over. I gazed at her, my heart in my mouth - and then noticed a tiny quirk of her lips. A moment later, she was smiling at me.

"Oh, darling!" Jane laughed lightly. "I don't mind you fucking her - I'd do it myself, but I only fuck girls for money!"

"More's the pity!" grunted Kitty. "C'mon, Janey, at least get over here and nibble my titties for me, huh?"

"I think Jonas is more than enough to keep you occupied, young lady," said Jane primly, then leaned down at kissed me warmly on the lips. "Sorry I'm late. I'm going for a shower," she said. "I'll see you later."

"Hey, is it okay if I get him to do my bum?" asked Kitty suddenly. "Having that monster pounding your shitter could really make a girl turn to religion!"

"It's up to you, but he'll rip you in half," Jane laughed, stroking my hair affectionately and then heading for the bathroom.

"Hm, she might be right," Kitty conceded, squeezing experimentally on my prodigious shaft. "I think I'll settle for a cunt-pounding today, then. C'mon, kid, let's see you really fuck me - gimme all you got!"

I couldn't believe what had happened: Jane had caught me in flagrante delicto with her best friend, and she had been fine with it. The implications were astounding - unfortunately, I didn't have time to consider them then, because Kitty decided that I had been holding back, and began to work my cock into her pussy with wrapping her enormous tits around my head. All conscious thought vanished and I dedicated myself to worshipping these awesome breasts with my tongue and lips and teeth, jabbing my hips in a series of hard, savage thrusts that made her grunt and swear as I really opened her cunt up. I've never had a woman who took my prick as easily as Kitty, but even she was struggling as my orgasm rose and my cock swelled to the width of a Coke can.

"Oh, fuck - fuck, little boy, do me!" Kitty moaned, throwing her head back and clawing viciously at her own tits as her orgasm overwhelmed her. Her cunt spasmed around my cock and clamped down hard, hot rippling surges ripping through her sex as I closed my eyes and, with a long, shuddering groan, emptied my swollen balls into her.

By the time Jane emerged from the shower, we had cleared up. Kitty made her excuses and left, and Jane and I shared a glass of wine before retiring to her bed. I didn't realise it at the time, of course, the but the first iceberg had appeared on the horizon. It was only a matter of time until it sunk the ship. I should have thought more about what happened, but in my childish arrogance I merely assumed that Jane was so happy with me that she wanted to share me with her friend. Once or twice my mind drifted toward Jane's attitude to sex, considering her work, but I pushed it away every time, refusing to consider the possibility that this beautiful, sacred act was nothing special to her.

The impact itself came about two weeks later, when Jane had invited me to a party at her place, a gathering of industry folk.

I was hanging around by the kitchen, clutching a glass of white wine as if it was a life-line. I was out of my depth, I knew it. These weren't my sort of people. They were - scary, somehow, hyper-sexualised Greek Gods and Goddesses wandering around, sharing intimate kisses and touches with complete indiscretion. By the windows, a curvy blonde was licking champagne from the breasts of a sexy Asian girl; by the stairs up to the mezzanine floor, a group of muscular guys were comparing their flaccid cocks and laughing. It was more than I could take. I was about to gulp down my wine and head in search of Jane when a short, balding man appeared beside me, leering up at me suggestively, his chin littered with unidentified fragments of party food.

"Hey, kid - you're Johnny, Jane's squeeze?"

"Jonas," I said, somewhat stiffly. The man was drunk, and looked decidedly out of place.

"Jonas, yeah, yeah," he said with a broad grin. "Saw the film you made, Virgin Hunter? Fucking great flick, kid, ruined a good pair of trousers watching it, you know what I mean?"

"I'm -" I began, but he continued, oblivious to my discomfort.

"And your cock - fuck, kid, if I had a cock like that I wouldn't have had to start making these fucking films, I'd have been starring in them! Speaking of which, do you have an agent yet? A company? I'll offer you a five-flick deal for two grand - no, fuck it, make it three! What do you say?"

"Who are you?" I managed, apalled at his foul behaviour.

"Matthias Reed," purred a voice in my ear. Kitty winked at the short, bald man and slipped her arm around my waist. "He's a film producer, and the sleaziest bastard you'll ever meet."

"Still on for our shoot on Thursday, Kit?" Matthias asked with an evil leer.

"Wouldn't miss it," she replied with another wink, and they laughed.

"I'm with Masque Productions," Matthias said, patting down his pockets until he found a dog-eared business card which he handed to me. "Only the sexiest girls, kid - like your little Kitty-cat here. Think about it: good money, good fucks, lots of laughs? Get in touch! See you Thursday, Kit," he said, already moving on to the next group of revellers. I stared after him, then laughed.

"What's funny?" asked Kitty curiously.

"Him," I said. "Trying to sign me up. I'm not a - I don't make the films you make, Kitty."

"Well, you've made one, and that's more than most people. Think about it, Jonas. You'd be good. Hey, maybe we'll fuck later, yeah?" She leaned over and kissed me warmly on the lips, then went in search of more fun. I sat for a moment holding the business card, then shook my head and stuffed it in a pocket, thinking no more of it.

The party continued: the dancing became more like foreplay, and the couch had become the scene of an impromptu orgy as three blonde starlets worked over a large black guy who had clearly had a little too much to drink. Everywhere you looked, couples were kissing, or flirting, or exhibiting their preternaturally beautiful bodies. The air stank of sex and booze and perfume - and I was actually starting to relax and enjoy myself when the iceberg finally hit.

"Hey, my boy, how's it going? Jonas, isn't it?" The voice from behind me was heavily accented, and something about it made me grit my teeth.

"Do I know you?" I asked, turning. The guy was taller than I am by a couple of inches, and looked like he'd stepped from the pages of a swimwear catalogue. He was wearing only a pair of loose khaki beach shorts and a linen shirt, open to the waist, showing off a physique that was impressive, even by the standards of Jane's party.

"No, but we have something in common, mon frere. I'm Jean, by the way - great party, huh?" I had no idea whether his accent was genuine or an affectation, but I suspected it was as fake as his tan.

"Something in common?" I sipped my drink and tried for an urbane chuckle. "I doubt that very much."

"Oh, but we do. You've been entertaining are gracious hostess lately, haven't you? Well, let's just say that I've - how do you put it, I've ploughed that particular field too. She's quite something, isn't she, this Lady Jane?" He laughed as if he had said something incredibly amusing. My fingers tightened on my glass.

"I'm not particularly interested in Jane's past," I said coolly. "I'm more interested in her future."

"Her future!" He laughed again. "Her future, that's very good, my boy! But perhaps you should be a little more interested in her present, oui?" He paused. "And I wouldn't consider myself part of her 'past', either - unless you count yesterday afternoon, that is."

"What do you mean?" I asked in a deadly tone.

"Just what I say, my boy! We had a shoot yesterday - nice little scene, too, if I say so myself. She always eats a cock like she's starving for it, don't you find? And the anal - my God, her ass is still as tight as the first time I fucked it! You know what I really love though?" he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "That little gasp when she cums. The little 'ah!'." He grinned. "I can't help it, my boy, I just fill her up with cum after one of those gasps!"

I couldn't think clearly. I remember putting my glass down, very calmly, and walking away from Jean without another word. Jane was standing in the middle of the lounge, talking to Kitty and several other people I didn't recognise. I caught her elbow and gracelessly pulled her away from the conversation.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" she protested, wriggling from my grip. She was wearing a strapless scarlet gown that left most of her breasts bare, and was slashed high on the thigh. She looked so beautiful that I ached to look at her.

"Do you have something to tell me?" I asked, my voice too loud. The party grew suddenly hushed, as every eye turned to watch us.

"Tell you? Like what?"

"You had sex with that guy, that fucking tan-in-a-can moron." Her right eyebrow lifted a half-inch, and I pointed across the room. "Jean. Captain Suave. You banged him yesterday, didn't you?"

"Well, sort of. We had a scene yesterday, if that's what -"

"How can you just admit it?" I demanded, my face flushing with fury. People were looking, and I didn't care. "You fucked him! Him! When were you planning on telling me?"

Jane looked around, as if trying to reassure herself that this was just a joke. "Why - Jonas, darling, you're embarrassing me."

"Embarrassing you?" I laughed bitterly into the hushed silence. "You spread your legs for that pompous fucking joker, and I'm embarrassing you?"

"Hey, calm down there, my boy," Jean said in an oily tone, crossing the room and putting his hand protectively on Jane's shoulder.

"Fuck off," I snapped.

Jane shook his hand from her, and stepped toward me. "Jonas, it was a scene. It was work."

"It doesn't matter how you justify it," I growled. "You fucked this loser behind my back and you didn't even have the courage to tell me."

Jane's eyes flashed. "So you're saying that it's fine for you to fuck my best friend on my couch because that's just sex, but when I fuck a guy for a film it's - what, I'm betraying you?"

"Yes," I said stubbornly, trying to hide the aching pain that was blossoming in my stomach. "You're behaving like a slut."

Her mouth fell open, dumbstruck - and then, she slapped me across the face. Hard. "I am not a slut," she hissed at me, tears filling her eyes. "Sluts don't get paid. I'm a fucking whore, Jonas, and you knew that from the beginning."

She turned away, and I moved to follow her, but Kitty intervened and caught my arm. "Let her go, you stupid bastard, you've done enough damage," she whispered.

"Jane -" I began, and she stopped at the door, turning to face me, her beautiful features scarred by anger and hurt.

"What? What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I thought you loved me," I said, the words falling from my trembling lips before I could stop them.

"Love you? It was sex, you - you fucking child! I liked you, I thought you were special and gentle and wonderful, but - Christ, Jonas, even if I did love you, I am what I am. I'm not going to stop my career because of you, or because of anyone."

I could take no more. I pushed Kitty away from me, and ran for the door. I burst through into the hallway, barely slowing, and launched myself at the stairwell door. The eight flights of stairs passed in a blur; suddenly, I was on the street, the cold night air in my face, running for all I was worth through the silent city. I ran until my legs ached, ran until my lungs burned - then, finally, I collapsed against the wall of a building far, far away from Jane. Fury, confusion and pain had propelled me this far, but no further.

And there, alone in the darkness, I let myself cry.


"And then?" Hannah asked, her eyes wide.

Jonas was silent for a long moment, the sipped from his mug of coffee and leaned back in his chair. "The next day, I called Matthias Reed at the Masque production office and said I had changed my mind. If she - I thought that I could stop it from hurting, if I had what she had." He fell silent, then shook his head. "The stupidity of youth."

"So that was when you signed with Masque," Hannah said. "Your first real films: Porn Dogs, Low Down Dirty, Vanity's Share..."

"Yes. Matthias, for all his faults, wasn't stupid - he knew how quickly things can change, so he signed me to a ten-film contract there and then. I got fifteen thousand pounds for it, and I thought I was the richest man alive." He chuckled. "The painful part is that I bumped into Matthias a few years ago, and he told me that those films earned him over a million."

"And Jane?"

Jonas sighed, and looked to the window. "We went our separate ways. Matthias had big plans, after all: I'd only been signed with him for a month when he decided that there was a good market for my 'talents' in the US. I was on a flight the next day, a fortnight before I was supposed to sit my exams. It was five years before I came back to England."

"Yeah, I read some things about your time in America," Hannah said, and Jonas laughed again.

"Yes, I imagine you did. But that, as they say, is another story."
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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