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Black Friday By Jena Corso Edited By Angela Myers Part 2 Marc held the rail, walking up the stairs for his first time in heels. His ankles were shaking with each step as he sauntered, very aware that he was about to head to work for Derek. He knew upfront it wasn't going to be good, but he never realized he would be looking anything like he did right now. "Ok, when you get there, ask for Tricia," Derek told him, looking at his watch while leaving. "Leave now, as it'll take you about a half hour to walk there." "Walk?" cried Marc. "Like this? Can't you drop me?" "Nah," Derek smiled. "Mable and I figured the fresh air and the walk would be good for you." "Honey, there's no white city boy standing in front of me anymore!" said Mable, handing him a purse. "You'll fit right in in this neighborhood now, and you need to break in those shoes. Time to get used to them, and I loaded all your essentials in your purse. Now move your pretty little ass or you'll be late." Marc was scared shitless hearing Mable's door shut behind him as he stepped out of her place. He would never in a million years have ventured into a neighborhood like this before, or even drive through it in his car. He could hear nothing but the click after click of his pumps as he walked down the dark alley, almost happy to turn the corner to a street with some traffic. He tried avoiding eye contact as he walked, grasping the shoulder strap of his purse with his right hand and concentrating on balancing in his shoes. He walked two blocks before he noticed a white sedan make a u-turn, and heard its loud rap music blasting, as suddenly he looked to his left, seeing the car rolling slowly next to him. "What's up chiccckka?" said a voice. "You need a lift?" "No, thank you," said Marc in his mousiest voice, giving a quick a glance. "You lost or new around here?" said the man. "I don't bite. Come on, let me give you a ride. Where you headed girl?" "No, I'm fine thanks," said Marc, avoiding eye contact. Marc felt a momentary sense of relief as the car sped away, only to see it pull over about a 100 feet ahead. He felt an immediate shiver as he knew he was going to have a problem as he watched the driver get out and lean against his car, staring at him as he approached. Nervously, Marc crossed to the other side of the street trying to avoid contact, but to no avail, as the man crossed in front of him. "Come on sista! Why you dissing me?" said the man. "I'm not," said Marc. "Sorry, can't stop to chat." "Come on baby. You can give me a minute, can't you? I mean you're looking so fine, and I don't see any ring on that finger," said the man grabbing his arm. "I'm Dwayne. I know you're not from around here, because I would have never missed that sexy shit you got going on." "I can't be late for work!" said Marc, pulling his arm away and continuing on. "That's bullshit," said Dwayne, stepping in front of him. "I know all the girls that work around here. Now I like what I see, so how about we take a little ride. We'll stop and get wine coolers and I'll drop you off a little late for work. I'm sure your boss will be down with that." "No, I won't," said Derek, pulling up and yelling out his window. "Get in the car, Marquita." "Oh shit! Sorry Derek," said Dwayne, taking his hands off Marc. "I didn't know she was one of yours. Damn, they never look that fine!" "But she does, and she's expensive," replied Derek, opening the car door. "Get in, Marquita!" "Holy shit. Thanks," said Marc, shaking as he got in. "You made it further than I thought?" Derek told him, thoroughly enjoying the situation. "You asshole!" said Marc, annoyed. "You knew that would happen?" "In this neighborhood, you got off easy," said Derek. "I just wanted to make sure you knew where you were and what could happen if you got cold feet. My clients that you'll be meeting won't be street thugs like that, but they won't be understanding either, with the kind of money they spend. Fuck up after all this shit we gone through to make you look this fine, and you'll be back out there with Dwayne again." "I got it," Marc gulped, nervously. "I'm all dressed up and I'm here, right?" "I know, but I'm just making sure," Derek grinned as he pulled up. "Even though you're a great guy, you're an addict and addicts can't be trusted. Let's hope you make an even a better girl tonight, because either way you're going to be someone's bitch. My advice to you is to treat my clients well, because they're going to take a lot better care of you than any hood in the streets. Like I said, it's up to you, but either way you're someone's bitch tonight. It's your choice, and being Dwayne's bitch doesn't help pay that debt." "Ok, enough," said Marc, holding up his hand as he opened the car door, getting out. "I got it." He looked up and composed himself, walking into the ritzy hotel. He saw a check in station and walked over, seeing a woman with a clipboard. "Umm Mar.. Umm Marquita Rosario," said Marc. "Where do I report?" "Ms. Rosario, nice of you to show tonight!" said the woman sarcastically, shaking her head as she looked him up and down after glancing at her watch. "Take the service elevator to the top floor atrium. You'll be working as a cigar matron, and more I'd bet. See Connor when you get up there." Marc rolled his eyes, strolling away as he jumped onto the elevator with some other workers headed up stairs. When he got there, it was chaos seeing dozens of people scrambling and getting ready. "Rosario, good, come here honey," said a man waving him over. "I'm your manager tonight, Connor. Put the strap over your neck and keep the cigar case across your waist. All the cigars are complementary, and I'll expect you to work the room until they are all gone or it's midnight. Then and only then will you report back to me for instruction." "Yes sir," said Marc, turning and placing the strap over his neck and positioning the carton at his waist. "Remember, we expect you to keep the guests entertained in conversation and we do encourage a little casual flirting," said Connor, grabbing his arm and then whispering in his ear. "Understand I'll be watching, and any tips you get go directly to me. Do we understand each other?" "Yes sir," whispered Marc. "Good," Connor gently placed a key on a band around Marc's wrist. "That opens the bar behind your private area. It's behind curtain 21, and you'll use it when you or your clients need a break. You know, maybe to freshen those pretty lips of yours. I'm sure you'll need to keep them moist and luscious." "Yes sir," said Marc, feeling a lump slide down his throat. "Get to work then," said Connor. "And don't forget to smile at all times." "Oohhh," yelped Marc as Connor squeezed and pinched his ass as he jumped forward. He walked out from the back room smiling as he mingled through the early crowd. Men were taking cigars and checking him out, as it was crazy feeling nothing but their grimy hands sliding across his arms and ass every chance they got. They shared plenty of small talk and many were happy just to cop a feel, as it didn't take that long for Marc to become immune to their touch, or pinch, or even when they would shove a bill into his dress. "I've always loved purple you know," said an older man taking a cigar. "And you are just ravishing in it, my dear." "Thank you," said Marc as he accidentally dropped the cigar. "I'm so clumsy," said the man showing little regard for anything as Marc suddenly felt his hand slide from his left ankle all the way up his thigh as he rose back up. "Have a light, dear?" "Sure," replied Marc, lighting it as the man put his arm around Marc now. "So, Ms. Rosario," said the man. "Why don't we go get better acquainted. I hear your lucky number is 21?" "It is?" asked Marc before catching himself. "Oh yes sir. It is." Marc didn't get it for a moment, but then realized this was to be his first client. He was shivering in fear as the man was gently rubbing his shoulder as they walked across the room. He looked up, seeing the large curtain with a little brass number 21 near the entrance as they slid it open and were soon inside. As they closed it behind them, it was not what he expected, being in a small dimly lit room with a red leather sofa, large flat screen tv, and a small wet bar. "Let's start with a drink Ms. Rosario. Pour us two scotches. I'm Grady by the way. What's your first name, honey?" asked Grady. "Marc... Marquita," said Marc sheepishly as he placed his cigar rack and purse on the ground. "To a wonderful night, dear," said Grady, downing his drink and patting the couch. Marc sat next to him on the couch and wasted no time as well downing his drink. As he finished, Grady's hands surrounded his face, cupping each cheek and gazing into his eyes. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about the fact he was about to be kissed by not only a man, but a senior citizen, and then opened them as nothing happened. "Sorry, I almost forgot," Grady smiled as he popped a little blue pill and downed another scotch before again gazing into his eyes. Marc's heart was pounding, revolted by Grady's every touch as he softly touched his face and then ran his fingers through his hair. He leaned in, pushing Marc slightly back against the sofa and Grady's lips now moved in ever so softly kissing his collar bone and then his neck. He sat like a dead fish awaiting the inevitable as Grady's fingers lifted the hair near his right ear, and his tongue entered his lobe for a moment. He was sighing ever so lightly while feeling the scruff of his goatee against Marc's chin before his lips softly pressed onto his. He had no idea how to act, just sitting there like a hunk of dead meat until Grady leaned back, breaking the one way silence. "Am I not your type, Marquita?" said Grady, giving him a look. "Your boss usually only has top shelf ladies here and I'm not ponying up for some dead fish bitch. Do you not like us old timers?" "I'm sorry Grady. I ah. I ahhh. I'm glad you like purple," Marc answered, breaking his mini-trance and then planting a big kiss on his cheek. "There's some purple for you." "Now we're talking. I'm not washing that for a month," said Grady, feeling better. "And many other spots either." Grady leaned in now, again taking Marc's face as he began tenderly kissing his lips. Marc knew this time there was no turning back as he needed to begin earning his money as he was deeply kissing Grady. He tried imaging it was his wife, but it wasn't easy feeling his facial hair scrape his face and his tongue penetrate ever so deeply into his throat. The make out session stopped a few times for a breath and a drink, and then Grady grabbed Marc's left wrist, sliding it down onto his now hard member. "Freshen that purple for me will you, Marquita." Grady took a breather and then grabbed his left wrist as he moved it away from Grady. "Use that right hand, ok." Marc rolled his eyes and continued to squeeze Grady through his trousers, while he reached down grabbing his purse with his left hand. Grady unzipped the purse for him as he rummaged through it, grabbing his lipstick and sliding open the tube. Grady was getting even more aroused watching Marc grease his lips before he placed it down and knew what he had to do. He unzipped Grady's pants and tried not to think about it as he guided them from his hips, and his striped boxers to the floor. It was revolting seeing his old shrivelled balls and rock hard member at full attention as he gave his best fake smile at Grady and began stroking it. As he moaned, Grady touched his hair, giving a few command like taps near the back as Marc followed, lowering his face as he engulfed him. It was certainly even more nauseating than with Derek, but easier to handle as he was certainly not as big. He sucked and bobbed, doing what he had to do to please Grady, as it wasn't more than five minutes until he exploded into his mouth, filling his throat. "I like you, Marquita," said Grady, sitting back and grabbing his cigar. "Let me have a light before you lick me clean my dear. I'm going to certainly request you again, and tell my friends." "How nice of you, Grady?" said Marc sarcastically, lighting his cigar as he wiped his chin, disgusted. Marc was right back to his knees as Grady puffed away, grossed out as he licked him like a dog. Finally when Grady finished his cigar, he gently stroked the back of his curls before standing up and zipping his pants. "It was a pleasure, Ms. Rosario," said Grady exiting as Marc got to his feet and sat on the couch, taking a breather for a moment. "Clean up and get back to work, Rosario," said Connor barging in. "You get five minutes to clean up once they leave, and then I expect you right back out there. Here, keep this in your purse and freshen up you face and hair." "Yes sir," said Marc, almost ready to cry as Connor tossed him a small travel kit with some tooth paste, mouthwash and a tooth brush. "Four minutes now," said Connor, walking out. "And don't forget to wash the glasses and have the room looking perfect for our next visit." Marc was practically tossing his cookies as he thoroughly washed out his mouth and brushed his teeth. He repaired his lips and really didn't know what else to do as he fluffed his hair a little and turned, placing the strap of the cigar box back around his neck. It wasn't long, as word seemed to travel as Grady did send some other men his way. He knew the drill, kissing and performing oral as he was trying to stay as mentally immune to it as he could. "You're doing well for your first night," said Derek, coming in and interrupting Marc as he was brushing his teeth again. "Oh, it's you!" Marc was almost relieved. "Am I almost done? You're killing me. That was my third bj, not even counting you. How am I doing, earning?" "Done, are you kidding?" said Derek, belly laughing. "Mine was training, and if I were you I'd stop blowing the geezers and look for some real money." "Are you kidding me?" said Marc. "I didn't know I was supposed to pick and choose? You made me hook up with a guy at least twice my age. I don't think I can sink much lower?" "So that first kiss as a girl must have been really special then," teased Derek. "Did he have his teeth in?" "Please, stop. This is all painful enough," said Marc. "Don't you have any little Chinese guys with money here and I can finish all this off." "Ah, ah sweet girl. Let's not be racist here," Derek chuckled. "I don't think you're the little Chinese guys type right now, and unfortunately for you, no I don't. You're right though. You can't pick and choose, but there's someone with considerably more money and resources that's interested in you. Come with me and I'll introduce you." Derek grabbed his wrist, dragging him from the room as he followed. He walked him across the room, making him hold his forearm as he led him over to a crowded conversation. "Hey Shaquille. Got a second. There's someone I'd like to introduce you to," Derek interrupted as he placed his arm around a man who was facing the other direction. "Hey brother," said Shaquille, hugging Derek. Marc looked up, immediately crossing his legs, feeling the urge to urinate himself seeing the enormous black man. "I'd like you to meet Marquita," said Derek. "Pleasure dear," said Shaquille, lifting and kissing his wrist. "Hi," said Marc, barely able to utter a sound. "I thought she might be of interest to you, big fella," said Derek, going into his sales pitch. "She's beautiful," Shaquille answered, before whispering in Derek's ear. "But no disrespect Derek, she's a little boney for me. You know, I like some meat." "I get that man, but you haven't had much variety lately," said Derek. "I know a guy like you likes to dip his chocolate in some milk every once and a while." "Good point, but she's looking a little haggard," Shaquille lifted Marc's chin and looked into his eyes. "You know I'm a big energy guy!" "Maybe a little, but she'll get that second wind," replied Derek, putting his arm around Marc. "It was good seeing you man. I'll just find somebody else that wants to break the seal on her." "Whoa?" Shaquille stopped them. "Come again brother. You saying nobody else has cr?me filled this pretty little oreo yet." "That's why I brought her to you, bro," said Derek. "I know what my main man likes." "You the man, Derek!" Shaquille grinned and grasped his hand. "Hector, go pull the car around and show Ms. Rosario to my car." "Do I know my good customers, or what?" said Derek, nodding as Marc watched Shaquille fill his hands with some bills. "How about I send Mable over as well to get her ready for your liking. Have a few more drinks and I'm sure when you get home, she can blow your doors off." "I like the way you think Derek," said Shaquille as Derek dialed his phone. "This way Miss," said the driver, taking his arm. Marc couldn't utter a word, almost finding it hard to believe this night was continuing. He had no idea what he earned this evening, but figured this next escapade would certainly go a long way to paying back some of his debt, realizing a large number of bills just entered Derek's pocket. He was exhausted, cat napping in the back of the pimped out Cadillac sedan until it stopped in front of a large mansion. "Miss Rosario," said the driver, awakening him. "We're here, miss." Marc was led inside and brought upstairs and into a large contemporary parlor. He was seated in some dim light alone until finally after ten minutes, Mable arrived, rolling in two large suitcases. "Well haven't we exceeded all expectations, dear?" said Mable, hugging him and flipping on some lights. "Let's get a move on as he'll be home soon, and I don't think Derek dragged me out of bed to keep him waiting." Marc stood there having little choice as she unzipped his dress, dropping it to the floor and then kicked off his shoes. She stripped off his undergarments as he stood there standing in the buff now as she led him to the bathroom. "Come on," said Mable as she opened the door, walked into the large marble shower and walked right in as he followed. "Just lie on your side for me, please." She took a wire hanger, untwisting it and dabbed it over the shower door, as he was confused, lying down now on his left hip. "I'm going to assume this will be your first ever enema right?" said Mable, zipping open a small suit case. "Pull your right leg up towards your chest and hold it there." 'Oh crap. Yes. Of course yes!" said Marc nervously as he watched her hang a bag with a long tube a few feet above his hips from the hanger. "It'll be fine," said Mable, stretching down the long tube. "Support your head with your elbow on the ground and flip your hair so it doesn't touch the floor." Mable snapped on some rubber gloves and he watched her lubricate the enema nozzle with some KY Jelly before inserting it into his rectum. He looked up, watching her release the clamp allowing the fluid to fill inside him shivering a bit. "Breathe through your mouth and tell me if you feel cramping," said Mable as she twisted his hair and wound in large clip. "Oh shit, now! I feel them," whined Marc. "Damn!" Mable closed the clamp temporarily until the cramping eased, then resumed the flow as he knew she was cleaning him out for Shaquille. He stared at the wall, wondering how he got himself into all this, as she started and stopped it a few times as he cramped up a few times. "Almost there," said Mable, releasing the nozzle from his ass as he looked up, seeing it empty. "Just hold it and keep breathing through your mouth for about three minutes, and you're done, Marquita." "Oh thank goodness," cried Marc, still cramping slightly. "Spread wide and go to the bathroom girl," Mable told him, tapping his thighs as he slid his legs apart and he wasted no time getting up and going. It was a relief when he finally finished. He got up, feeling almost no shame as she towelled off his legs and buttocks, then removed a long bronze tube from her bag. She squirted some cream into her palm and began rubbing it into his legs as she knelt. She was working up and down each leg and then across his backside, before standing and coating his arms and stomach. She put the tube away and then took a brush and opened a large artist pallet. She worked with a large slightly moist sponge, beginning at his neck and then all around his cleavage area, gently blotting. She then worked her way across his stomach and then down towards his crotch area, before beginning to blend. He felt greasy and sticky as she worked over and over blending and sponging constantly, before she finally took a large soft brush. She dipped it into a powdery substance and then began at his neckline, ever so softly brushing as she coated him from his collarbone to his toes. When she was satisfied, she took a huge powder puff, patting him down everywhere as she lifted his arms and surrounded virtually every inch of him. She circled him a few times before taking her wand, touching up his mascara and then thickened his eye liner. She worked every so slowly, updating his eye shadow and then brushed at his cheeks. "Ladies, the boss is home," said a voice behing the door. "Tell him just five minutes please, and let's hope you both enjoy the surprise," said Mable, removing the clip from his hair and teasing it up and back away from his face. "Is this really necessary?" asked Marc. "I'm pretty sure I know his intentions." "Bosses orders," said Mable, outlining his lips with a pencil before painting them with a brush. "Rub 'em Marquita, and let's get you dressed." As Marc rubbed his lips together, his thighs were shaking just a touch as Mable stretched open an odd looking nude colored mesh g-string type panty, tapping his left leg as he stepped into it. She pushed his testicles inside his body cavity, pulled back his limp member before tugging the elastic type thong as she released it. It felt incredibly strange as she adjusted the thin rear straps across his butt cheeks, and then took a small plastic hair pic from her case. She stood again, picking at his curls as she lifted them and saturated them in hairspray, teasing them upwards and outward even more now as she tugged. When she finished, she oddly knelt right in front of his crotch, pushed against the front of the thong as she quickly used her pick, pulling his pubic hair through the small mesh squares. "Easy, that really pinches," said Marc as she ignored him, taking out a large shoe box. His eyes popped seeing the height of his new heels, as he held her shoulder stepping into the first shoe. It was crazy looking down as she wrapped the clear plastic strap around his ankle as he struggled mightily to stay balanced as she put on the other. "Just a more few adjustments," said Mable, taking a pink razor from her bag and tapping his legs open wider as he stood. She again picked at each side of his g-string until she was happy with the amount of hair that she pulled through and then took the razor, doing a little shaping outside the mesh. "Please Mable," Marc squirmed. "That really hurts when you pull it. It stings bad." "If you think that hurts," replied Mable, sliding her hand between his legs and he felt a gooey sensation against his anus. "You better think again, sweetie. I'm working on taking some of the initial sting away. Now let's get you dressed, because you're ready." She wiped her hand with a little towel and now removed a white sheer see through mesh item from her suitcase. She ever so carefully dropped it over his head, sliding in his arms and then tugged it down past his ass before she stepped back, admiring her work before zipping up her suitcase. "Have fun Marquita," said Mable. "I'll see you in the morning." "Are you shitting me?" said Marc. "I can't be in just this. I mean, I know what's coming obviously, but where are my clothes?" "I'll have some ready for you in the morning? I'll be staying in the guest house tonight," replied Mable. "Wait, I'm sleeping here?" said Marc, stunned. "You and I both know you won't be doing much sleeping, honey," Mable ushered him towards the doors and helped him as he wasn't used to the new heels "Now I wouldn't anger him if I were you? He's been waiting five minutes already. Go out these large double doors, and it's all the way down the hall until you can't go anymore." As the door closed behind Mable, Marc took three deep breaths and stared down at his legs, hearing the door lock behind him. "Holy shit," said Marc as he took a few short steps wobbling, before stopping to try to compose himself as he stood there looking at his feet now in clear plastic stiletto sandals. He was incredibly tall now, towering in his new shoes, which had a two inch platforms under his toes, and six inch ultra-thin spikey heels. Finally out of the dim light, he got a great view of his long legs glistening, looking so dark and toned under the glow of the crystal scones which lined the hallway walls. He did his best walking slowly down the hallway, where every little click of his heels on the teak floor rebounded in the quiet night, until he finally got the full view of himself in a large ornate mirror, gasping as he approached his reflection. What he thought was a simple thin dress he assumed she had dressed him in, turned out to be nothing more than a see through ivory baby doll mesh nightie, which he wasn't sure why she even bothered putting on him, since everything was completely revealed, and it hemmed just short of his private area, leaving him fully exposed down there. All the powder and cream she had coated him with was used to embellish his amazingly real looking boobs and highlight his skinny body, which was oiled up like a body builder from head to toe. Across his collarbones, stomach, and between his breasts, the obvious body glitter glistened right through his ultra-sheer negligee, and the mesh panty he knew was there appeared invisible, displaying nothing but a perfectly shaped bush as he almost couldn't believe what he was staring at. "Unbelievable," murmured Marc to himself, biting his lip as he turned his neck, watching his hair barely move but just slightly bounce. He stopped when he finally got to the mirror, stunned seeing himself looking more like a greased up mocha penthouse pet he'd seen in a centerfold, rather than the husband with the gambling problem he knew was underneath. He slid his tongue nervously across the cherry red gloss, knowing his lips looked tremendous as they were over outlined in a dark burgundy, creating quite a bit of contrast and size. Below the liner, they seemed to graduate from cherry red to almost pink at the center, as they shined like porcelain, especially in the middle. He touched his hair, feeling amazed at how all his kinky hair spray plastered curls flowed outward and away from his face like a thick lion's mane, only making his lashes and lips look even bigger. "Stop dilly dallying, Marquita," said Mable, starling his gaze as he looked to his left and over the rail. He felt a nervous shiver, never realizing she could see him from downstairs as he walked down the hall, as she smiled at him, as did his butler and driver, all staring up at him. "Shit," sighed Marc, embarrassed, taking one of his hands and covering his privates and the other across his breasts as he began walking with a little more speed this time. "Don't keep me waiting any longer, Marquita," said a voice as he approached the door from behind it. "I'm looking forward to this." He knew he had zero options, turning the knob and entering the room, as he could see Shaquille lying on a huge zebra print velvet covered round bed, in a mint green silk robe. "Hi," said Marc, quivering as Shaquille sat up. He took his finger, pointing at him, twisting it around as Marc obviously knew what he meant as he spun slowly on command for Shaquille. As he came around facing him, Shaquille had a serious look on his face as he approached. Without saying a word, he took Marc's hand and looked down ,staring into his eyes, as even in his skyscraper heels, Shaquille towered over him. "You look good enough to eat," Shaquille told him as he took his index finger, rubbing it along Marc's moist lips and then licked it with his huge tongue. "Yuuumm. I'm so looking forward to this, Marquita." Shaquille took Marc by the hand, leading over towards the long scarlet red drapes before he released his hand, turning and walking away from Marc across the room. He took a seat in a large lavish golden ornamental chair, just looking him up and down , before he opened a drawer, taking out an elaborate remote as Marc felt the slight chill as he clicked the first button. He peeked over his shoulder, realizing he was on display under the moonlight as the slight breeze ever so softly ruffled through his thin garment as the motorized drapes opened up. "Show me that slow sexy walk," said Shaquille, clicking on the stereo as Marc immediately recognized the beat and sultry sound of Marvin Gaye setting the mood. "Very slow. I want us both to savor this." He stood there feeling his nerves get the best of him, biting his lip and then sliding his tongue across his lip gloss, tasting the cranberry flavor. It was revolting seeing the evil grin on Shaquille's face, nodding as he liked what he saw as Marc's shyness and inexperience only seemed to turn on Shaquille even further. He flicked his index finger a few times as Marc knew he had to approach slowly, feeling like a piece of meat on his way to the slaughterhouse. Just the feeling of his hips swaying from his extreme heels and the slightest cool breeze on his back was enough to cause some goose bumps to grow across his barely clothed body, as he moved ever so slowly making his way over towards Shaquille. He broke eye contact, watching his long legs swing with each stride as he could feel every wiggle of his body now unable to tune out the distinct bounce at his chest, watching the silicon boobs and long curly wefts jiggle with each step. He lifted his eyes now, seeing Shaquille's feet as he stopped inches from him, afraid to look right into his deep brown eyes. "Yeaaaahhhh baby," sighed Shaquille as he ever so gently reached his hand under Marc's negligee, softly stroking his pubic hair a few times. He stood up now and reached down with his other hand, placing it under Marc's thighs and lifted him off the ground like a little rag doll as Marc was completely thrown off balance, grabbing around his neck. He gave a huge belly chuckle as he lifted Marc's face towards his as he cradled him in both arms now. His brute strength was beyond anything Marc could comprehend, as whether Marc liked it or not, his immense lips pressed against his and they began a steamy kissing session. It was nothing like any kiss he had ever known or even experienced earlier in the night, as this mountain of a man was practically snapping his ribs, squeezing him as he sighed and groaned almost choking him with his tongue. "You've got wonderful tonsils, Marquita," said Shaquille, gently placing him on the bed. "I look forward to getting to know them better later, but for now it's time for some pushing in that sexy cushion. We've both waited long enough to go where no man has gone before, sugar. I know you're ready, and we'll start nice and slow." Marc was afraid to look as Shaquille gently rubbed his ass cheeks before opening his robe. He was happy to not really see what was about to happen, but knew exactly his fate as Shaquille tapped his thigh to roll over. "On all fours, my precious beauty," commanded Shaquille, lifting Marc's belly slightly. Lump after lump rolled down his throat as he positioned himself on his knees. He was tensing up, bracing himself as oddly he felt no impact but gentle kissing and nibbling on his left butt cheek. He was completely startled, feeling Shaquille's biceps wrap around his thighs as he lifted his knees off the bed a few inches. He balanced oddly, with all his weight on his palms as he felt the craziest sensation of Shaquille's tongue enter his anus. He was squeezing his face tightly now against his crack kissing, and nibbling over and over as Marc did his best balancing act, wheelbarrow style for a few minutes, before he finally placed his knees back on the bed. "She cleaned you good," said Shaquille. "You're fresh and tasty, Marquira. That's the way I like my ladies." Marc heard a few squirts now before seeing a small tube tossed on the bed to his left. He felt the most frigid tremble slide down his spine now as he could feel a distinct finger swirl at the edge of his anus, spreading a buttery substance. He gasped at the initial penetration as the finger ever so slightly entered him as Shaquille manipulated it in every direction as, the rest of his fingers squeezed his butt cheeks. "Oh fuck," gasped Marc, as Shaquille dug in his nails and squeezed a few times. "Easy please. Easy!" "It's just your nice and tight, girl," said Shaquille, pulling out his finger and then shoving it into his mouth and giving a quick slurp like a popsicle. "Sluuurrrpp! I suggest you do your best to relax those muscles, and I'll do the rest for now. Time on our wonderful foreplay is about to run out, sista." Marc let out a blood curdling scream as Shaquille was done warming up, feeling the initial penetration separating his cheeks. He no longer had any control of his emotions, feeling like his muscles were being ripped from the bone as Shaquille pushed his way inside. He could do nothing but moan and plead as tears rolled uncontrollably down his cheeks as Shaquille slowly thrust back and forth. "It'll stretch, Marquita," whispered Shaquille, kissing his back as he was plowing him. "You're so tight, and so fucking sexy, bitch." Marc could do nothing but take it as the pace picked up and the penetration grew deeper as he grit his teeth. He felt like he was going to pass out from the pain through his anal cavity as he knew Shaquille was enjoying every second. He had no idea how long this was going on as seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed like hours. It was intense, until suddenly he felt a push deeper then he imagined possible, practically breaking his back as Shaquille held tightly on his hips and erupted inside him. Between the pain and emotion, he was shivering as Shaquille held him so firmly, making sure every last drop drained during the everlasting explosion. "Now that was incredible," exclaimed Shaquille, pulling out. "I wasn't sure at first, but you were worth every penny. Nothing beats a good virgin ass." Marc rolled over, feeling incredibly sore physically, but maybe even more shattered emotionally, getting his first real look at the immense size of Shaquille's dripping erection as he smiled down on him. He climbed onto the bed next to Marc, looking down and wiping his tears before initiating a deep kiss as Marc was ready to puke, thinking about that Shaquille's tongue minutes ago was swishing inside his ass and was now rubbing his tonsils. Finally he broke the kiss and gingerly climbed on top of him, straddling him as he looked down, kissing him again. He could feel the stickiness dripping on his stomach as he twisted his neck watched it ooze from Shaquille's semi-erect state. "You must be exhausted," asked Shaquille, leaning down, planting a few soft kisses. "I'm wiped," replied Marc as Shaquille's lips slid off his lips to his neck. "Easy! Damn. Whooooaaaahhh!" Marc's entire body tensed up, feeling Shaquille's teeth clamp onto the right side of his neck. He was flinching and panting as Shaquille was thoroughly enjoying his little love bite. When he finally unlocked his jaw, Marc's muscles all just went limp as Shaquille resumed a few short quick kisses on his lips before finally climbing off of him. It was like his body finally went numb, as Shaquille slid his left arm under Marc's neck and he found himself being cradled as he was rolled slightly on his side, staring a Shaquille's sweaty chest and nipples. It was the last sight he could remember as he could barely keep his eyes open, feeling a gentle kiss on his forehead and leakage from his crack as he fell asleep.