This chapter contains adult content. Reader discretion and restriction of access for those under 18 are recommended
001#
January 21, 2020. New York City, United States.
When Andy opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the voluptuous figure of a woman lying on top of him, her huge dense breasts crushed against his rock-hard abs. The heavy melons spilled out to the sides, flattened and deformed by their own weight. She slept with a satisfied smile, lips slightly parted, thick fleshy thighs intertwined with his, her pussy still wet and sticky brushing against his thigh. The scent of recent sex and dried cum filled the air.
Andy smirked smugly, his semi-hard cock throbbing under the sheet as the memories of the night flooded back. He had fucked her like an animal, pounding her until her fat hips quivered and her tits bounced wildly. He had cum inside her three times, filling her womb until the semen dripped down her meaty thighs.
"Heh… that makes five sluts this week, and it's only Tuesday," he thought with a malicious, dominant grin, his cock hardening again just from the memory. A dark chuckle echoed in his mind as he carelessly caressed one of the sleeping woman's lewd fat tits, pinching the hardened nipple until she moaned unconsciously in her sleep.
Andrew J. Collins, known as Andy Collins, was a 27-year-old stud working at a prestigious Wall Street investment firm. To anyone else it might seem stressful, but to him it was fucking paradise. His real "job" at the office was making women cum until they lost their minds, and he felt damn proud and lucky to have that position.
In the three years he'd been there, he had fucked every woman in the firm: secretaries with round tight asses, analysts with big tits spilling out of their blouses, uptight executives who ended up begging for his cock while screaming with their legs spread wide on his desk.
It earned him the nicknames "The Wolf" and "Patrick Bateman 2.0" among his colleagues, and he wore them like medals.
This was his life, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.
The thrill of the chase, the slow seduction until he broke their resistance, and the final conquest—when the woman turned into a dumb moaning bitch trembling under his cock—was what got him rock-hard every morning.
And today, like every day, he was already thinking about the next one.
The hangover clouded Andy's mind, barely recalling the girl sprawled across him, her thick, meaty thighs still tangled with his. They had met at the company party the night before, and things had escalated lightning-fast. He seduced her effortlessly, as always, and they ended up in a nearby hotel room, their sweaty, naked bodies grinding urgently as they devoured each other.
In the heat of his primal lust, she let slip that she was the CEO's daughter. Andy paused for a split second, wondering if it was wise to fuck the boss's daughter. But he dismissed the thought instantly; he was too lost in the raw heat of the moment, too absorbed in pounding into her over and over. "The boss's daughter, huh?" he muttered with a wicked, dominant grin. "Well, this just got a lot more interesting."
His fingers roamed her bare skin from head to toe, feeling her shudder in response, her huge dense breasts trembling with every touch. The heavy melons swayed as she arched, her nipples hardening into diamond points under his firm pinches. This made the conquest even more satisfying. The risks only amplified the thrill.
The 12-years-old Macallan Bottle—clouded his memory, and he only remembered her name started with "M." But what burned into his brain were the vivid details: how she begged for more, her voice hoarse and desperate as he fucked her from behind, her fat ass bouncing hard against his hips with every thrust. He remembered how her body quivered under each caress, her massive tits swinging wildly, and how she came hard, her pussy clamping down on his cock like a hot, wet vise while screaming his name.
"Mmm… Andy," a soft moan escaped her lips as she woke. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his. A warm, sleepy smile curved her lips as she gazed at his handsome features.
"Good morning, my love ," she murmured in a tender, intimate voice.
A chill ran down Andy's spine at the word "love." With quick, deliberate movements, he untangled himself from her embrace and slid out of bed. His hands moved with silent urgency as he started dressing, pulling on the same clothes from the night before, the fabric still carrying the faint scent of their passion.
"As much as I'd like to stay, I'm afraid I have to go," he said, rushing his goodbye as he headed for the door, eager to leave the hotel room behind.
He reached the door quickly, hand on the knob, ready to turn it.
"Wait," the woman said, grabbing his arm just as Andy cracked the door open. "Can we at least have breakfast together?" she asked, her face anxious, pleading for him to stay.
Andy couldn't stand the thought of spending another second with her, but he needed an excuse to slip away without causing a scene—after all, she was the boss's daughter. So he did what he always did when he wanted to escape: play the charming gentleman.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to go," he replied with a reassuring smile, caressing her cheek with a warm, tender touch. "I don't want to get scolded for being late. But let me tell you—being with you is like seeing the world through new eyes. I hope we can see each other again soon. I like you."
Her cheeks flushed completely at his empty words, completely captivated by his charm. "Well, goodbye then, my love."
They shared a tender, lingering kiss on the lips before parting.
Andy stepped out of the hotel; his charming gentleman facade dropped instantly, replaced by a blank, emotionless expression as he sank into his thoughts. "It was good fucking her, even if she's way too clingy and that creeped me out, honestly. Not my best night, but not a disaster either. At least she has those massive tits that made me throb with every thrust. Wonder who she got those from."
After a 10-minute walk through the streets, Andy arrived at Smith Capital Investments for another day at the office. As he settled into his desk on the 15th floor, his mind was blank. Suddenly, Ashley, the vice president's secretary, approached him with an important message.
"Mr. Collins, Mrs. Smith requires your immediate presence in her office," Ashley said.
With her vibrant green hair cascading down her shoulders and her piercing black eyes shining intensely, Ashley was a provocative sight: a sheer white blouse unbuttoned just enough to reveal the deep cleavage of her huge dense breasts spilling over a lace bra, a tight pencil skirt hugging her lush curves and fat hips, black stockings on her long legs, and heels clicking on the marble floor.
"Right now?" Andy asked.
"Yes, right now," Ashley replied in her usual expressionless tone.
"Alright," Andy answered calmly.
"Please follow me," she said, turning her back to him. Every step made her enormous wobbling ass strain against the skirt, the leather so tight it looked ready to split at any moment, the meaty cheeks flexing and jiggling with each movement.
Andy stayed composed upon being summoned by the vice president herself. He anticipated she wanted a "private" matter alone.
"Heh, this woman is way too impatient," he chuckled under his breath. The call didn't surprise him at all; he and the vice president were regular "friends." She often dragged him into the bathroom or her office for a quick, passionate fuck. Andy already felt his throbbing cock hardening at the thought of sinking back into her rich MILF pussy.
As Ashley led him down the hallways, Andy's eyes locked onto the hypnotic sway of her fat ass under the miniskirt, each step making her cheeks bounce slightly. His wicked grin widened as he asked in a low voice: "Ashley, how about we take a break and have one of our 'special conversations' in the bathroom?"
Ashley stopped halfway down the empty hallway, where it was just the two of them. Her stoic expression cracked; a flush crept up her cheeks and her gaze turned nervous.
"I'm never having sex with you again. You never listen," she replied, her voice thick with anger.
Andy's lips curled into a mischievous smile. He closed the distance in three quick strides, wrapping his left arm around her waist and pulling her flush against his firm chest. His right hand dropped straight to her plump ass, grabbing it through the tight skirt, squeezing the soft, fleshy meat until she gasped.
Ashley froze, her black eyes wide with disbelief, holding her breath under his predatory stare. But her body betrayed her—her thighs clenched instinctively, and a soft, stifled whimper escaped her lips: "Mmmh… nnh…"
Without breaking eye contact, Andy slid his hand lower, slipping two fingers under the hem of her skirt. He pressed them firmly against the thin fabric of her panties, right over her pussy, rubbing slow circles through the damp material. Ashley's breath hitched, her hips twitching forward despite herself. The friction made her soak through almost instantly—warm, slick arousal coating his fingertips as he teased her swollen folds.
A tiny, stifled moan slipped out: "Hnn… ahh…"
Andy pulled his fingers free, now glistening with her juices, and held them up between them, letting the clear strings of her love juices stretch and drip slowly. With his other hand, yanked open his fly and pulled out his already fully erect cock: long, straight with that perfect upward curve, veiny, throbbing, the tip glistening with precum.
"Do you really not want this?" he asked, brushing the hot head of his dick against her thigh—. Look at it, Ashley. It's like this because of you. Just like always.
Ashley looked down. Andy's cock was a masterpiece: thick at the base, tapering just enough to slide in easily, and that curve that had always hit her G-spot mercilessly. She felt her pussy clench hard, instantly soaking her blue lace panties.
"Andy… please…" she whispered, but her voice had already lost its strength.
***
Three minutes later, in the company's women's bathroom, moans could be heard coming from the last stall at the end.
***
Andy emerged from the women's restroom, his cock still dripping with thick strings of cum and her juices. As he strutted down the hallway, women and men passed by without flinching at the sight of him exiting the ladies' room—they all knew exactly what he'd been doing in there.
The women stared with open lust, biting their lips, thighs clenching as they imagined being the one bent over in that stall, moaning like a bitch in heat. Their eyes lingered on his bulge, already half-hard again, dripping shamelessly.
The men burned with raw envy. Their jaws tightened, fists clenched at their sides as they stared at the thick, dripping bulge in Andy's pants. They cursed themselves silently—not just for lacking the balls to claim what he took so easily, but for their own pathetic, tiny cocks that could never compare.
"Fucking lucky bastard…" one muttered under his breath, glaring daggers as Andy walked past with that smug, dominant smirk.
Quickly arriving at Mrs. Smith's office ready for a new session of adulterous sex, he opened the door to find her standing before him, an unparalleled beauty. Mrs. Smith was facing the window, engrossed in a phone conversation, oblivious to Andy's presence in her office. Andy waited patiently, his eyes fixed on her back from a distance.
Amanda Smith, the Vice President of SCI, exuded a commanding, lustful elegance. Her hazel eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence and seduction. Her platinum-blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders. The tight red dress clung to her voluptuous body, but what dominated everything were her monstrous, gigantic, obscenely huge breasts: colossal, dense, heavy melons bouncing with every breath, straining the fabric to its limit, stiff nipples poking like diamonds. Every movement made those titanic tits swing forcefully, drawing every gaze.
Her massive, round ass jiggled with each step, the short black skirt riding up just enough to show its brutal weight. Gold bracelets gleamed on her wrists, and the black jacket hung over her shoulders like a crown on her raw allure.
"Yes, thank you, doctor," Amanda Smith said, ended the call with a soft, deep sigh: "Haaah…"
Suddenly, Andy moved fast, wrapping his arms around her from behind and grabbing her huge dense breasts with both hands, squeezing them possessively through the red dress. The heavy melons overflowed between his fingers, trembling from the rough contact.
Amanda shivered slightly, a low moan escaping her lips: "Mmmh…"
"Did you call for me, Mandy?" he whispered seductively into her ear, his hot breath brushing her neck as his thumbs grazed her hardened nipples through the fabric.
Amanda was surprised to feel Andy's hands grabbing her breasts from behind, but not entirely. With a quick movement, she broke free from his grip and spun around to face him. Her hazel eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desire as she raised her hand and delivered a hard, resounding slap across his cheek.
¡SLAP!
The sharp crack echoed through the office, turning Andy's cheek bright red instantly.
Andy's expression was a mixture of surprise and confusion at the sudden act. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity.
"What's going on?! You slept with my daughter Maeve last night, despite my warning you not to!" Amanda exclaimed, her anger palpable.
"Maeve?... Oh...Yeah, yeah, yeah... So that's the name. I should have guessed." Andy said, remembering the name of the woman he had kissed earlier this morning. He finally understand that Amanda was the wife of the president of company, Michael, and thus the mother of Maeve.
"I'm tired of you, Andy. Do you think you can fuck with any women without facing consequences?" Amanda asked, beginning to feel anxiety.
"You know how I am, Mandy," Andy said in a mocking tone. "But I have a hard time understanding why it bothers you so much that I've been with your daughter. You and I have fucked countless times, and considering you're married, morally speaking, it shouldn't bother you. You know I'm a fucking womanizer."
"That's precisely why I called you here," Amanda replied in a heavy voice, her gaze lowered to the floor as quiet sobs shook her shoulders.
"Where are you trying to say, Mandy?" asked Andy, sensing there was more to her anger than just her daughter.
Amanda's demeanor changed, and she began to cry. "I'm pregnant with your child, Andy" she said, revealing the source of her distress.
Andy was taken aback and quickly responded with a cold question. "Are you going to have an abortion?"
"It's too late for that," she replied. "My husband found out about the pregnancy and thinks it's his. He's looking forward to having a child."
Andy listened intently as Amanda breathed heavily and then continued with a mixture of guilt and shame.
"I managed to trick him," Amanda admitted quietly. "I told him we had sex one night when he came home drunk from work and couldn't remember anything. He believed me."
Maintaining his composure, Andy asked, "So, what's the problem?"
"What's the problem?!" she said, surprised by his indifference. "I haven't been sex with my husband for over a year, so there's no way it's his. I don't want to deceive him by pretending it's his."
"After all these years of deceiving him, now you're worried about telling him a lie? That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?" Andy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Amanda knew that lying was the easy way out, but she felt she couldn't do it. With tearful and desperate eyes, she said, "What am I going to do, Andy? What are we going to do about our baby?"
"Our baby? I don't care. Fool him by telling him it's his baby. I'm going to take a break," said Andy, leaving the office.
"Please, wait...!" Amanda begged.
Andy walked out of Amanda's office, barely hearing her words. "Wow, that was intense. I haven't even had time for breakfast. I should get a coffee at Starbucks."
As he stepped out of the company building and crossed the crosswalk, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen: "Mom." Andy's thumb moved to hang up, but before he could end the call, a sudden buzz filled the air. The roar of an approaching vehicle grew deafening. He barely had time to turn before a Japanese company Truck-kun slammed into him with a brutal CRASH!
The impact hurled him several meters through the air, his body twisting helplessly as the world spun in a blur of pain and shock.
"Oh my gosh!!!"
"An ambulance!!! Call an ambulance!!!"
People around him erupted in chaos—some screaming for help, others shrieking in horror, most already pulling out their phones to record the bloody scene. Andy's life ended in an instant, no prolonged agony, no final goodbyes—just the heavy, wet CRUNCH of metal against flesh, followed by an eerie, suffocating silence.
Perhaps as a just punishment for his sins.
Maybe it would have been Karma.