The Beasts Other Half

There was no sound coming from the other sixteen units on her floor, and the automatic lights were only turned on from the elevator to the vicinity of her door, tracing the trajectory of the unknown delivery man.

A reminder that the package hadn’t simply materialised on her doorstep — there was a human aspect to it, albeit invisible.

The rest of the corridor was drowned in darkness.

She looked back at the package.

 This side up and handle with care written all over it, like tattoos on the torso of a short, bulky, tanned, naked man.

On a large white sticker, her name and address proved the delivery was not a mistake, that package was destined for her door, but there was no sender.

If she hadn't ordered it, who had? There was no one who would care for her that much, no family, no friends, no loved ones.

Emmy hugged it and noticed how heavy it was. Too heavy to lift, so pushing was the only way she could get it into the living room.

She tore through the duct tape feeling a mixture of curiosity and fear, but was left perplexed when she confirmed, separating the pieces and looking through the instructions manual, that it was a bookshelf.

She actually needed a new bookshelf.

The old one was too damaged to be carried when she moved to this apartment, so his books had been piled in a corner, waiting for a moment like this.

That is convenient, she thought. A strange convenience, since she never ordered it, but still a convenience.

Assembly and clean up took the rest of the afternoon and most of the night, and when it was done.

It was immense, but she wasn't a girl of many possessions, so it fit comfortably after it was pushed into place.

What a beauty it was. She was tired, and in need of a shower, yes, but the shelves looked at her emptied, eager  for the books they would hold, longing for them.

She took a step back and admired her work, gleeful as a child on her birthday. The fact that she hadn't ordered it was quickly dissolved and forgotten by the fact that she now had it, and it was now her: the bookshelf.

She would have even taken a picture of it with her phone, had it not vibrated on her pocket at that very moment.

She took it in her hands. There was a message on the screen: your package has been delivered.

Was it a new message or the same from earlier? Before she could open it to see the hour it was delivered, a new message, identical to the other two, appeared on the screen: your package has been delivered.

What was happening?

Emmy Johnson too much frightened. She thought she will never opened the door to check the package.

She went to her bedroom for sleep and set an alarm for her office time.

James Thomson

They always did.

Even if the English thing didn’t drop their knickers, the ex-military angle usually pried even the most resilient ankles apart.

The combination?

Killer.

It just so happened that I was also going to be the predominant heir to the esteemed

James Fortune. Fortunately, I hadn’t needed to lean on that one to drop a pair of slickened panties just yet, but it always helped speed along the process.

“That’s right, love. Just like that. Make my throbbing knob swell with pride.”

My strong fingers threaded deeper through her curly hair They never could.

It occurred to me, as I forced her to suck me down deeper, that I didn’t quite remember her name.

She was just some quick draw from the club, a pretty face that went red with pleasure the moment she caught my rich accent.

James knew she couldn’t remember my name, either, but she was going to ask for it again by the end.

“Oh baby, come for me,” she moaned, withdrawing my cock to lap away at the underside.

She ran her tongue along it, cradling my huge balls with one hand and stroking me valiantly with the other.

“Come in my mouth, babe. I know you want to.”

“Wrong.”

She looked up at me, confused.

“When I cum… it’ll be in that trembling pussy of yours.”

I flipped her backwards on the bed, climbing a top her body.

She shifted around on her back to get comfortable, and I slid her ankles apart with my own.

Within seconds, a condom was torn free from its wrapper in my teeth, and I slid the snug sheath smugly over my pulsing cock.

“Oh God…” she whispered.

I pressed my lips to her neck. “Quiet now.”

Firmly grasping my latex-wrapped weapon, I guided it where it needed to go.

I knew that her pussy had been ready since the moment she’d whipped out my huge, throbbing cock.

It was just as I thought. Drenched.

In one heavy, powerful push, I was already halfway into her slick chasm.

God, she was tight. I mean, they were always tight with the caliber that I was always packing, but it still drove me wild every time.

Well… usually.

She was gliding her hips against mine, rolling her pelvis along my thick, unyielding tool.

I thought about asking how flexible she was… but then I just decided to figure that out for myself.

With a deft move of my arms, I’d slipped her ankles up over either shoulder; my strong hands rigidly clamped around her hamstrings, and I held her in place against me.

“Oof,” she murmured with satisfaction as I dove deeper inside her.

With each fast, massive thrust, my throbbing cock pushed further into her quivering body.

Her legs were starting to hurt, so I flipped her onto all fours and mounted my prize from behind.