All the girls get their hands on his monster cock.
Her blonde hair had the carefully tousled look she liked; a bit like she had only just got out of bed, but neater. She was not the kind of girl that could have taken up modeling for a living, but she was very attractive nonetheless.
I dragged my attention back to the computer and unscrewed its casing. Christine stabbed the channel button. Simon Schama's voice was replaced by a groan of pleasure followed by a voice saying "Yeah, fuck me, baby."
My head ratcheted around toward the TV to see a ten year old cookery program with Delia Smith. I blinked a couple of times. The channel changed to one of the shopping channels. I was being offered a gold bracelet with not-quite-real diamonds at a knock-down price.
"Something wrong, Mike?"
I looked around to see that Christine had sat up and was looking at me, concerned. She was leaning forward so that I could see straight down the front of her bodice. I swallowed. "Um, no. Just thought I heard something." I went back to hunting the hardware fault. Replacing the video card was often a good bet. My head went down and I concentrated.
"Ooo, aah! Yeah, do it to me!"
My head came up, banging into the edge of the table. I saw stars. Clutching my head, I formed myself into a small ball on the floor and groaned as loudly as the voice I had heard.
"Oh god, Mike! Are you okay?" Christine rushed over to me, standing over me and trying to look solicitous. I could hear David Attenborough on the TV, no sounds of rutting porn stars. I grunted and sat upright, still clutching my throbbing head. "Let me look," she said, bending forward to favor me with another view of her breasts. She pulled my hands away from my head and tweaked at my hair. "Can't see in this light," she said. "Come over by the window."
I stood up, returning a hand to holding my brains in, and she led me over to the seat she had been sitting in. I dropped into it and she pulled my head forward to look at the throbbing lump of my skull. The way she was holding my head directed my eyes straight at her chest. Another part of me began to throb a little. I was beginning to suspect she was doing this on purpose.
"It's not bleeding," she said, twisting my head a little. "You'll probably have a big lump soon," she added. Then she pulled my head forward so that my nose was maybe an inch from her cleavage. "Let me see the back," she said. She pushed me away again. "No, that's okay." She grinned brightly at me, like a happy schoolgirl. "You should probably sit there for a while. Until the room stops spinning." I nodded, and immediately regretted it.
"Ow," I said and clutched my head in my heads.
"Oh, poor baby," Christine said. "Let me rub it better." She reached out to rub at my head, eliciting a shriek of pain. "Sorry!" and she backed off.
There was a short pause. "Mmm, yeah." The female voice again. This time I did not look up. "Oh yeah, baby, you're so big. Put that big cock inside me now." I concentrated hard on the floor. One of Christine's sandals shifted into my field of view; she had spread her legs. Her toe nails became the focus of my attention as they writhed in front of me. "Oh, oh yeah," said the voice. "Fuck me with your big cock."
Christine dropped to her knees in front of me. "You okay, Mike?" I looked up. On the screen a muscled porn icon was slowly driving a silicon-breasted porn queen to distraction. He had her on her back, legs spread wide, tits bouncing as he thrust into her. "It's our newest partner channel," Christine said. Her voice and dropped in pitch a little. "I rather like it. I've been watching it since I got in this morning." I sat up, my eyes fixed on the scene on the TV. I was trying not to look at Christine too hard. "Maybe there's something else I can rub," she said, and my heart stopped beating in my chest.
I felt my fly being undone, then my belt was removed and my briefs pulled down. My cock, suddenly stiffer than it had been since I was a teenager, sprang to life. "Um, Chris..." I began.
"Shush," she replied, and I felt h