Fallen

[Sinkales]

Was horny and wrote in one afternoon.

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Fallen Chap 1
You hold her tight and feel nuances of muscles under her cloths. 
 
It’s been so long. She feels different.
 
Her breath hitches when your hand wander and feeling the tight muscles on her back, exploring the bumps and crevices.
 
Biting her lips to keep her need to moan within. She tenses to hold in, her dormant muscles ripple out and expands into distinct ridges and bumps.
 
She is never a horny person. But somehow you always manage to make her feel that way. Curling her rippling arms, thick with rock hard triceps and corded biceps around you, she slides her calloused hands down gently before resting on your hips.
 
She needs- She needs to feel you between her chest cleavage, between her pecs, that were thick and large enough to camouflage as a D-cup breast. At the corner of her pecs, her nipples poking treacherously through her clothes, she pulls you closer, trying to rub discreetly her nipples against you and disguise her moan as grunt whenever her nipples touch you. 
 
Fuck. It feels so good as she grinds her crotch between her tight jeans as inconspicuously as she could, disguise under mild shift on her feet to feet.
 
It’s okay, she reasons. She will capture and sears the shape of your body into her mind first. And once she alone, she can pleasure herself with your memory as much as she can without feeling guilty. 
 
“Are you okay?”
 
And that snap her out of her lusts. She blinks once.
 
“Yeah,” she breathes out slowly. Her words are deliberate and calm. A lifetime practice from the stoic mask she always slips on in front of people. 
 
“You sure gotten bigger.” There’s that smirk that melts her heart again. You give her a pat on her bulging traps and then disengage yourself from her. 
 
Immediately, her heart plunges as the chilly air fills the space between, and her corded arms fall to her sides.
 
“You sure have one pair sensitive nipples by the way.” You laugh and point your head toward her pecs. 
 
And dear God, she tries so hard not to blush under your chiming laughs and wonderful gaze. So, she huffs an indignant smile as a response.
 
“Wait, wait! I want to see and touch your abs! You must have muscular abs too! 6 packs?” You clap, excited like a child. “No, no,” you voice out, a mischievous thoughtfulness, then you gasp, “8 packs?!”

Without hesitation, she raises her shirt up slowly, her heart drums loud and fast, bit by bit revealing her serrated oblique and bricks of shredded abs. Each of them is thickly defined; as if it was sculpted on a marble by Michelangelo’s hands, with tell-tale veins snake across, leading down to her crotch.
 
And you laugh even more. It sounds like a healing balm to her ear and soul.
 
You reach out. Tentative and gentle, one finger, two fingers. As they run across those steep valleys and solid ravines. 
 
She steels herself so her abs will not quiver under your careful touch, as you traverse down and down, sighing in content. And that almost makes her preen. Then you stop at the waistband of her jeans, gently you tug it. 

And she freezes. 

When she doesn’t reply, you let it go. “I was wrong, I think.” Your finger points at her abs, counting them. “I think there are more pass this line, right?” Your eyes shine in childlike curiosity. 

It makes her mouth dry and herself foolishly brave. She unbuttons her jean and drags the zipper down, and down until it was right above her low panty line. Her swirly bush peeking out from the line.

“I was right!” You step forward and poke her remaining exposed abs, too close to her crotch. She tightens her glutes, so she wouldn’t squirm under your oblivious touch. 

Fingertip touches expand into palm-wide caress, as your hand slide around the hard curves. She watches intensely as your fingers accidentally ruffle a few tufts of her pubic hair, and fuck. She almost let out a moan.

With your eyes roaming close to her crotch, she could imagine phantom touches stroking her clit agonisingly slowly. 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. 

FUCK. 

Her grip on herself is slipping. She needs to get away from you before she does anything stupid.

“That is enough.”

She almost flinches when those words tumble out of her own lips. Regret brew within her, as your blinding smile falters before it freezes and clings on your lips, static and subdued.

Your eyes look away and when they travel back to her, careful wry distance replaced your playful warmth.

“Sorry, sorry,” it sounds casual, insincere even. Your hand scratches the side of your neck. A fleeting gesture that you do whenever you feel uneasy.

Your smile stays on. But her heart breaks. 

No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-

Instead, she tugs her shirt down and zips up her jeans. “It’s good to see you again.” She speaks.

“Yeah, so how are you?” You carry on without missing a beat and chuckle. “Must be something big for you to be this big.” 
 
You happened. She thinks. I miss you. 

She shrugs. “Things happened, and I need to be better, stronger.”

You nod as if you understand. Why wouldn’t you? 

Your finger taps on your knuckle, you bite your lip and open your mouth. “How’s John?”

John, her boyfriend. He’s somewhere away. He’s her boyfriend and not her boyfriend. They had a complicated relationship. You must have seen something on her face as your familiar peacemaker façade slips on. 

“Do you think we meet up together for a proper drink? You, me and... John?” 

Her anger flares. It was you. You. Not John. 

“Look, I don’t feel like talking this with you again.” Fuck! 

You raise up your hands in surrender. A resigned smile hangs on your face. “Sorry, sorry.” You let out a chuckling sigh, apologetic. “It seems like that’s all I’m been doing.” The words are soft and heart-breaking.

“Anyway, I’m so glad to see you again.” You raise your fist and wait for her fist bump. 

Numbly, she returns the gesture.

“Okay then, see you when I see you.” And you leave. 

She watches as your silhouette crawls into a distance before vanishing down the long and empty street. She didn’t realise she had been balling her hands all this while, clammy with sweat. 

Fuck. She forgets to ask for your number and address.

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Forgive me for any typos or miss-out grammatical errors, i tried weeding them through. 
Will publish the next chap by next week.

[Hello345]

Looking forward to it, this was excellent

[Wookey]

Very hot K+

[crow004]

Very nice! I'd love to see more of what's going on!

[wowser1016]

Please don't forget us. I liked the opening kind of different approach but good. Looking forward to more. K+!

[Sinkales]

Looking forward to it, this was excellent

Thank you so much for being the first comment! It added fuels to my writing.

Very hot K+

Thank you to you too! Fuel ++

Very nice! I'd love to see more of what's going on!

Thank you! Fuel +++ I have some pretty rough idea where I wanna go. Stay tune!

Please don't forget us. I liked the opening kind of different approach but good. Looking forward to more. K+!

It was the first thing that comes in to my mind, hence the opening. Thank you! Fuel ++++

[Sinkales]

Fallen Chap 2

Note: A shorter one this round. Cooking up a mammoth next week.

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By the time she found your place with the help of her family private investigator, you are gone again. You never stay in a place long enough, always on the move. There are minimal traces of your digital footprints.   

“Normal people wouldn’t care about their digital trails. It is as though your friend is on the run.” The investigator said. “Or that they are hiding from something.” 

Only clear image that the private investigator found is months old photo of you handing out flyers in, smiling. Others were too blurred to see your face.   

Grasping your latest photo in her rough hand, she quietly walks down to her workout wing. She is a successful entrepreneur and an heir to an aristocratic family, owning a large mansion by the idyllic countryside.   

In her personal workout space, there is a large life-size poster of you, laughing at the camera. John’s portion is folded away, leaving only his hand on your shoulder.   

She strokes your paper cheek tenderly. 

“I love you.” She whispers. “I love you.” Her heart breaks into a million pieces again.   

To mend it again, she goes to her workout equipment and tore off her extremely tight tank top. Leaving only a paper-thin panty on her crotch. Her thick bush is like a black splotch on her crotch, shamelessly bushing out. 

She starts bench-pressing and grunts as the cold steely bar touches her brick thick pecs. As her pecs rise higher and higher, and push repeatedly, until they are numb.   

Sometimes she let the cold bar touches her sensitive nipples. Her chest is so pumped; they went from 3 inches thick expanded to 4 inches thick. She moans shamelessly loud, crying your name, as she pushes her way through. 

When her mammoth pecs are raw and in pain, she clips heavy weights on unto her erected nipples, now at the bottom of her painful pecs, pointing down.   

She then tugs her panty aside to reveal her clit and pussy and slides a dong with adjustable weight into her pussy. Clenches her pussy tight, she crunches her core of armoured abs and stood unto a raised platform and start squatting. The dangling weights sway forth and back.   

She looks into your eyes as she squats. Her breath laboured as she exhales your name. She is in pain; she is in pleasure. Her heart break and mends, again and again.   

By the time she was done, her soaked pussy was so tight, it twists and crush the steely dong into an uneven stick. And her nipples, instead of elongated from pulling the weight, they were an inch long and 2 inch thick, fat with veins crisscrossed as buttery milk drip from her stubby nipples.   

She unclenches her pussy; the weights slide off and thud loudly on the ground. Staring into the wall of mirrors, she looks like a slut.   

Your slut. She thinks wryly and her heart breaks again.   

Her crotch is itching and begging for her attention. Not yet. 

She trains arms and abs and obliques, pulling and crunching them with calculated recklessness until they are swollen and she feels each fibre of her muscles pulling and pulling and screaming in taut pain. 

Not enough.

She needs to feel your hand on her back. She needs to train her back so they are big and defined. To feel her back muscles ripples, as your hands ghost down and down and land on her sensitive hip. She misses your touch. Your tentative featherlight touches trail down- Fuck!

When she completes pulling her back muscles in to tatters, she’s already covered in her own sweat and milk. She trails her coarse fingers down to her crotch and to her peeking clit. She tears her soak wet panty and starts attacking her throbbing clit.   

It is angry and strained, corded with miniscule veins from all the abuse she inflicted on it as she pleasures herself.   

Diamond hard pecs obstructs her view, her bloated biceps push the sides of her pecs, brushing her leaking fatty nipples. Her lactated milk flow into between her valleys and crevices of abs and serrated obliques, over flood her navel button across and further down like branches of river streams.   

Glutes tighten; her trunk of legs open as she gropes for her angry peanut nub, fingers shaking, arms sore from the exertion.   

She strokes and pinches it hard as she cries out your name in painful ecstasy. Her soaked pussy, so full of cum, puddle beneath her.   

It hurts. It hurts. And she sobs.   

She fucks herself again and again. Until her legs buckle. Until she’s covered in her own sweat, milk, cum and tears, curled in her own dirty puddle, convulsing. Until she dozes off while still hiccupping your name.

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Note: Trying to practice my writing. The only time I even motivated to wrote more than 500 words is when I'm horny.  Anyway, next week's chapter: reunion.

[Wookey]

Wow. This is dam good. K+

[jhunter]

Interesting story flow and descriptions. I look forward to more.

[Sinkales]

Wow. This is dam good. K+

Thank you for your comment! +Fuel <3

Interesting story flow and descriptions. I look forward to more.

I have a vague idea of how the story will be. But for now, gonna focus on the more immediate sexy actions. Thanks for you comment. ++Fuel <3

-

Thanks guys for the comments & Views.
Please look forward to the next chapter later today.

[Sinkales]

Fallen Chapter 3

Note: Dropping this early since I will be away during the weekend...and this is probably the longest horny chapter of fiction I ever wrote.

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It lasted for years. You are elusive as your knowing smirk and distant eyes. Traces of you slip thru her grasp like smoke and shadow each time. 

The abuse she inflicted on herself, to others, it seemed like she was obsessed with growing muscular. By then, they view her with awe and respect and sometimes fear and disgust. There are influxes of proposals and dating requests flooding her media. 

She occasionally entertains some of them for her business's sake. She always wears form-fitted business casual, material tailored with strong elasticity so it can stretch and stretches and never rip. 

Because of her 6-inches-thick pecs, she keeps her cleavage exposed, revealing her fine clavicle bone, the entirety of her chest, under pecs and the top pair of her steely abs. 

There are always tabloids and news about her body and her life. She is the top favourite hit in fan-made porn videos. There are always fake lewd videos of her fucking with someone. 

It doesn’t matter how she is; she always finds herself missing you. She had tried to find you with her given resources, but somehow you eluded them. She even fears for the worse. She holds your only adult photo close to her. Whenever she is anxious, she will hold it in her grip. 

Most nights, she would fuck herself after an intensely unforgiving workout, yelling your name and if she feels better, she would take a cold shower and sleep naked on her luxurious bed staring at your poster, pasted on top of her ceiling. 

So, it is a surprise when you walk into her spacious office as a janitor, pushing your trolley of cleaning equipment during one empty midnight. 

Her voice icy, as she speaks without looking up. Eyelashes flutter as her eyes scan the document. “Come back at 5 am when I’m not around.”   

You are stunned. Mumbling a soft apology, you try to shuffle out of the room. 

The room stills into a paused silence, and you found yourself face to face with thick shredded pecs pushing out, between you and your escape door. So close to your face, you can smell husky scent mingles with salty sweat and Turmeric fresh perfume. 

You watch her chest rise and hear heavy breaths above you. Under the dim light, you can even see the contours of her goosebumps areolas and nipples at the corner of her mammoth pecs, hidden beneath her skin-tight formal wear. 

Her voice restrained and dangerously low when she speaks, “Where are you going?” 

You pull your janitor cap lower to obscure your face and focus on her heaving chest. Your voice is light, “Boss told me to come back around 5 am when she’s not around, gotta clean the office, ya know?” And you wait. 

Your mind must be making fun of you, as you realised her heaving chest is inching closer to you than before, larger than you think. Her revealed cleavage looks even more exposed as if her shirt was pushed aside by her growing chest, and you can see a fraction of her pinkish brown areolas peeking out. You resist the urge to take a step back.

“Will you then?” Her voice low.

You blink away, and on instinct, look up. “What?”

She looks as beautiful as ever, even with a frown. “Will you come back again?” She growls. By now, you can see one of her nipples has slipped out, so you make a mistake by looking up into her eyes.

Her expression unreadable. Her breath slows. 

On a stupid impulse, your playful spirit reignites, and you remove that drab cap and smirk. “It depends.” 

She doesn’t respond.

Uneasy, you look down from her eyes and watch as her chest tightens and veins on them thicken. You freeze and brace for her when she raises her arms. 

Instead of pain, you find yourself in a snug and warm hug. Despite how hard her body looks, she is gentle with you. Your face pressed against her naked pecs, expanding under her powerful breath. 

Your mind blanks.

“Fuck. I miss you.” She whispers. “So, so much.” 

You thought you are hallucinating when she speaks out the next words, soft but clear. “I love you.”

Alarmed, you push yourself away from her pecs. Not before your eyes wandered to her stubby and exposed nipples. 

She flinches, not expecting you to disengage. She thought you would need time to digest, as she confesses. 

“I thought...” You look away. “How are you and John?”

She feels her anger shimmer again, but after countless therapies, she pushes it deep down. “He doesn’t matter. Only you do.” 

She reaches out, slowly, towards your cheek so that you can still push her palm away if you wanted to. “It has always been you.” 

And you let her touch you. Her hand is as calloused and big as ever. Veins snake on each of her fingers.

Where did you go? Why did you hide from her, too?

She has so many questions, but none of them matters. “Stay with me,” she holds your face in her palms, gentle like a fragile and precious little thing. 

“Please.” There is a rare venerability in her eyes, pleading. 

“I-” You want to. 

But you are not who you say you are. You do not belong here. In this world. You are an outcast, a foreign failure origin yet painfully mundane, forcefully pull into this world, which makes you an enticing target for midnight hunters and supernatural scholars. Your never-ending quest for relics to hide your trails. 

That is why attachments with you will hurt those who are close to you. 

She must have seen your hesitation, undeterred, she tips your face up so she could stare into your eyes. “I know what you are and I can protect you.” 

A bold and cute declaration. Just like her even before her transformation and success. You clasp her hands on your face, with adoration as clear as the sun on a bright cloudless morning.

“Of course, you do.” It wasn’t sarcasm. She is one of the cleverest people you ever met in your lifetime of exile. “Of course, you do.” You repeated. The unassuming ring on your index finger is cold. 

And you are so tired. Tired from pretending, tired from running. For once, you will stop hiding. You want to be selfish. 

Holding her hand away from your face, you kiss her knuckle. Her eyes are dark and watching. There is trepidation in how she holds her body. You took a step closer, so close to her chest. And then you kiss her nipple reverently. 

Her chest quiver, rising higher and her breathing hitches. And you look up into her glossy eyes, with unfiltered longing and want. 

Before long, you are carried in her strong arms like a bride as she rushes her way down to her car through her personal walkway and elevator. She did not bother to cover her exposed nipples, and you nibble on the one closest to your face. 

You laugh fondly in your front seat as you watch her drive carefully abiding by the road traffic and its law despite the growing lust in her intense eyes and her exposed cleavage to withstand the blast of her air-conditioned air.

This is why you love her so much. 

When you reach her mansion, she carries you all the way to her bedroom without a beat.

The moment her door closed behind her; all her fire doused. Instead, there is a melancholy look. 

And you fear the worst. 

It was fun while it lasted, you supposed. Though not long enough. Not long enough. So, for once, you ignore your self-loathing needs to flee, and reach up to kiss her glossy lips, and murmur against them. “I’m sorry.” 

As if a switch is turned on again, you could feel her muscles tense, screaming to be let out from the constraint she places herself in. She kisses back with vigour and carries you higher, so she could kiss you deeply. Her tongue pries open your lips and skilfully mingles with yours. 

It explores greedily every nook and cranny of your mouth until you must push yourself away for air, leaving a bridge of saliva between you. There is an unspoken concern in her eyes when you push her away. Worry that she might have suffocated you in her eagerness. Worry that you are backpedalling.

When you close your distance and lick in that bridge of saliva, she blushes.

Cute. It reminds you of your childhood years when she used to blush often. 

“Despite how sexy you look in skin-tight smart casual, I want you to take it off now.” You tug and purr. “Strip them like those in those stripper shows.”

“You want me to put on a show?” 

God, she can be slow when you hornily need her. 

“These clothes have a... certain way to take them off. Since they are...” she gestures to her clothes, they meld against her muscles, skin tight. 

“Owh?” Your eyes sparkle. She blushes, “I have to shimmy them off. It’s tight now.” Since she had been tensing her muscles the moment she noticed you. 

“Gotchaa.” You nod, might as well work on the logistics first. You wordlessly point at her big bed.

Gently, she places you on it, making sure you are comfortable. Her touches linger on your waist before stepping away. 

You shift and move on the bed until you are in a comfortable spot to watch her. You took out your phone and start recording. “Okay, you can start to shimmy yourself out now.” You wave your hands, encouraging. The mirth in your eyes is clear.   

Her eyes widen. “What- but- they-” 

She quiets down when you place your finger on your beaming lips. You did not hide, no, you do not want to hide the bursting fondness and warmth you always have for her.   

And she returns your emotions with a bashful look-away and ears red. “Okay, but you have to share that recording with me too.”   

You laugh with a nod.   

Satisfied, she shrugs those clothes from her. She starts with the easiest one with her nipples and deep cleavage out in the open. She peels her blazer away, her wide shoulder round, and her arms bulging and tense. Careful as she tries not to tear the tailored-made clothes. 

Your eyes couldn’t decide which muscle to start at, roaming from her biceps and her triceps to her boulder round shoulder, before settling on your favourite part of her body, her pecs and areola-wreathed nipples. Her pecs strain and bounce even with the slightest movement. And her brown nipples look delicious, swaying back and forth stoutly under her pecs.   

After some effort, she manages to take off her blazer and shirt. Her upper torso flare in all its bulging glory. Each muscle an art of its own, tapering down to her waist. Sculpted Adonis belt forms natural trails that lead your eyes down into the waistband of her slacks before exploding again in her glutes and legs. Next, she moves her muscular and vascular fingers to her slacks.   

Despite calling it slacks, it feels more like some over-stretched leggings, too tight and snug everywhere, detailed blocks of granite muscle movement could be seen even through that layer of fabric. And a tell-tale sign of her clit poking out between her crotch area.   

With her body bends down, you have another beautiful angle of her melon size shoulders, and relentlessly powerful pecs dancing. You watch as her thick defined biceps rub against her fat glistening nipples and dripping? 

You realise they are lactating.   

She is so focused on getting out of her pants that she didn’t realise that. 

Cute. Really cute. 

Despite her effort, she could only remove just a fraction of the pants as her grunts grew louder.

You notice there is a dark spot between her crotch spreading out, you smirk knowingly. She is getting impatient and horny from all these self-rubs. 

She pushes her pants down enough to reveal a thick patch of untamed forest, curling. She is stuck for 10 minutes with no genuine progress as her muscles are growing and pumped from her relentless effort. Her clit is getting bigger with every second she shimmies, pushing for attention. Her grunts are getting louder and laboured. 

You hear a soft “fuck”. 

Follow by an angry sound of fabric tear. She relentlessly tore her tailored made slacks into tatters. 

Her muscles are so pumped from her earlier effort as they ripple gloriously under the light in high definition, glistening from her sweat. All fabric has gone except her little panty, which looks so tight and barely even able to hide her wild coarse bush and her swollen clit. 

When she is done, she looks around and realises you are still recording. She blushes again when she notes this is the first time, she is naked in front of you. Her hand and arms hover around her crotch and nipples before she drops them to her side. 

You point at her ridiculously petite panty and raise your brow. She blushes even more furiously when she realises there are cum leaking and streaming down on her tree-trunk thighs. 

“Fuck it.” She curses. And tear that panty as well with a hook from her finger.

The rush of cold air greets her already bulging raw clit. It feels so good to be out of that set thing. You whistle. She stood straighter, tensing all her muscles, posing for you. 

All the while, her nipples never stop their steady flow of creamy thick milk. 

You laugh. Tossing your phone aside and hop off her bed. 

Still in her muscular pose, she looks confused when you tiptoe and pull her down for a searing passionate kiss. 

Her traps are high and steel hard in your palms. Your hands snake around her body, caressing her thick back, to her flaring lats, passing streams of creamy milk, staining milk on every corner of her thick powerful body. Your fingers trace the muscles fibres and veins.

But they will always return to her mammoth chest and rippling pecs. Bouncing and twitching as she responds eagerly. 

You feel her breath hitches, when your finger found its way to her unusual stocky brown nipples, preening in milk for attention. They are wider in width than in length. They make a wonderful grip on your palms as you tweak them. She whimpers lustfully; her body continues to tense even more. 

Her calloused hand rest on your hip, pulling you closer gently. Even now, she is holding her strength back, careful to not overexert her grip on you. 

With her swollen raw clit's need unmet, she grinds it within her thick, corded and veiny thighs. 

So, you reprieve her, your hand glides down, ruffling her pubic hair as she bucks, and gently lands on her clit. Surprised, she twitches thunderously and gives you a look so thick with emotions. 

“Fuck.” She murmurs. 

“Fuck.” she says again her voice breaking, it sounds as though she is on the verge of crying. 

Alarmed, you move your hand away to wipe her tears, only to be held in place. 

“No, don’t.” She whispers, “please.”

She guides your hand back to her clit and starts kneading it. Her free hand pulls you closer so she could rest her head on you and she inhales deeply.

When you continue to massage her nub with no prompting, her fingers slide into your dingy janitor pants and touch your wet crotch. Careful and gentle, her coarse fingers are enough to make it for her gentleness. 

“Is this alright?” She asks. 

“Yes, you can be rough-, hrngh!” She hits the spot, you gasp out a smirk. 

And she laughs.

Both your pace increase, getting faster and faster, feeling it building up high and higher into a crescendo, then you shudder as you reach orgasm, she claims your muffled scream in her kiss and holds you tight so when you could buckle in her arms.   

Soon after it is her turn. It is so wonderful to see her muscles always in action only to suddenly freeze, and she shudders, hitting the door behind her, steadying her footing as she holds you in her muscular embrace before relaxing. She lets out a sigh of contentment.

She carries you again and places you on her enormous fluffy bed. You enjoy the show as each of her muscles continues to ripple for you. You tug her down with a pinch on her wet nipple. “Join me.” You purr, and she laughs again. 

She flops beside you. “Come over, you.” She growls, her voice husky. Her thick arm reaches out and encircles you as you shift closer to her. She turns to a side and covers your back like a big spoon, as she pulls the blanket over the both of you, caressing your wiry arm, in a calming rhythm. 

You begin to doze off to sleep as you feel a shift behind you and you think you heard another “fuck” whisper hot beside your ear. 

You huff out a laugh. “I love you too.”

[crow004]

WOW! Great chapter! They have great chemistry. I hope she relaxes a bit and doesn't hold back as much. I hope it leads to some passionate muscle worshiping.
K+