The Interrogation 4 (Chapter 15)

This quieted his underlings, who went back to serving only as bouncers for the captive. Meanwhile Logan still had yet to break from the gaze of his victim, who didn’t so much as frown, but peered icily back into the prideful doofus’s pupils. Gripping the bedspread on either side of the woman’s head, he proceeded to rock back and forth, impaling his raunchy spear as deep into the fleshy pinched thoroughfare of her cleavage as he could, then retracted until only the tip remained snagged between. Once Logan had the motion down, he sped up, full on titty-fucking this degradation-happy stranger. Serious friction quickly heated his genitals and Angelina’s freckled boob valley, but neither party flinched in the act except for the gyration necessary to stimulate, and the generous quantity of dried sweat and even leftover popsicle and milk drippings were warmed back to liquid state, making for an unorthodox but useful lube to ease the track.

In time, Logan rolled his head back and moaned, his pulsing momentum becoming inexact but more necessary, even shaking his hips so those novelty jumbo breasts could bobble to the sides in the process of inflating slightly with each repetition of the fratster’s erection filling up the voluminous paunch space. As he grunted his way closer to climax, Logan’s violent thrusts threatened to smack that ponderous feminine ballast right back into Angelina’s face again, like airbags exploding outward after a car crash every other second, but even while her own weighty assets continually came an inch away from whapping her in the nose, Angelina did not blink, nor react in any way except to calmly breathe, thanks to the zen she’d discovered by vividly imagining her immediate future plans once Logan had his fill.

With a wretched harrumph, dramatized purely to drive home the humiliation for his bedmate, Logan spurted into the tubby gulley amidst those sacs. After catching his breath, he wiped his brow and peeled the stickier flanks of perspiring blinding-white breasts apart to extract his instrument. Only when the guy had withdrawn from the bed and nodded approval did Kyle and Chad, with heads apologetically hung, release Angelina from their hold. She didn’t attempt to rise, but remained bare and prostrate on the bed, with the ejaculate belonging to her hatred incarnate now joining the fluid stew of dairy, cherry-sugar, and sweat collected in her cleavage. Apparently the wham-bam-no-thank-you type, Logan was already at the door, ready to move on to bigger and better things, though Angelina knew he was unlikely to ever find either.

“I was right. Those were just perfect for that,” he affirmed. “Honestly, MOM, if you were just those things… like, no body, no face, just a living pair of giant squishy tits… I might even want to let you hang around with us longer. But, you’re not, and you’re kinda old and saggy and weird, so I think we’re done. Guys? Let’s bounce. I’m not waiting up.”

Without so much as a foreboding farewell glare, Logan was out the door, probably putting Angelina out of mind as soon as she was out of his sight. Chad and Kyle, however, lingered for a moment longer inside the room, shuffling and clearing their throats as if they meant to say something, but were too embarrassed to try.

“No hard feelings, boys,” Angelina murmured, speaking for the first time in several awkward minutes. She gracefully shifted back onto her haunches, turning her abused zonkers back into hypnotic focal points that dangled sloppily into the sheets, which immediately earned their attentions back. “I told you what I like, and I meant it. In fact, I’d love just a little more. And why should he have all the fun? He left so quickly, I didn’t get the chance to explain: there’s so much more these girls can do. C’mon. I’ll show you. Remember, what happens on spring break, stays on spring break.”

###

            As 2 a.m. approached, Logan stepped out of the shower and sighed with satisfaction. It had been a pretty successful days: a party on the beach, drinks at the bars, mingling with some good-looking pieces, two of whom he’d hooked up with, plus an outing on a speedboat and hitting up multiple clubs past midnight. Oh, and there was that amusing episode with the pervy boob-mutant, too. The evening had actually been improved by the abandonment of his so-called “friends,” as Logan knew they’d have cramped his style anyway. The only real annoyance he’d encountered yet today, an almost-immaculate streak, was that it appeared his towel had gone missing, once he was already naked and dripping on the bathroom tile. Shrugging, Logan darted back to the blacked-out condo master bedroom down the hall and shut the door behind him before switching the light on.

            Swiveling, he froze in place to find an all-too-familiar raven-haired crimson-lipped bloat-chested mature gothic creep resting sideways on the bed, her misshapen hourglass silhouette still unconventionally beautiful and totally overwhelming in her every oddball atom. Dressed in a slinky hip-hugging black dress instead of that next-to-nothing bikini now, she wouldn’t have looked out of place as a centerfold model pasted on some emo spook-loving adolescent’s wall.

            “What the absolute goddamned shitting fuck?” Logan blared in stupefied incredulity. He was so appalled to see Angelina again, not only formally dressed and well made-up but sultrily awaiting him in a come-hither pose on his bed, it took him a full ten seconds to recall he was still nude and soaking from the shower. When he did notice, he didn’t bother to cover up, as such a thing would’ve been silly when he’d already shown Angelina his junk today and tucked it firmly between her cans, but this was a startling moment nonetheless, and uniquely disadvantageous for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

            “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say. Well, almost,” Angelina said. She batted her mascaraed lashes, puckered her blood-red lips to a kissy pout, and nonchalantly smoothed out a wrinkle in her silky neckline. “You really do know how to talk a girl off.”

            “Okay, I really can’t figure out what your deal is, Mom. Yeah, I get it already, you’re a giant freak who just can’t get enough of being random people’s cum dumpsters. You don’t have to keep reminding me,” Logan said. He impatiently crossed his arms, evidently fairly comfortable standing totally exposed before his bed intruder, though his chiseled shape was clearly the source of most, if not all, of his bluster. “I don’t know how the hell you found out where I was staying, but if you’re that desperate for my dick, I’m gonna have to do a hard pass. Yeah, it felt pretty good fucking those blimp-bags on you, but I just took a shower, and I don’t really want to feel dirty again, which is what’s gonna happen if I touch any part of you now. Hey, I’m up for a goodbye present, though, so if you want to maybe just sit there with your rack out and let me jack off, I’ll cum all over them and that dumbass smile of yours, and then I’ll just kick you back on the street where you belong. Cool?”

            “Yes,” Angelina said, much to Logan’s deer-in-headlights shell-shock. She really was proving a glutton for punishment. Not to be outdone, he shrugged and sauntered to the bed, already cradling his manhood.

“If you insist,” he chuckled. “Shit, I really think I’ll remember you for a while after this, Mom.”

“I think so, too.”

With the golden-haired boy toy standing over her now, a hunky living Ken doll wearing a smile just begging to be turned upside-down, Angelina sat at the edge of the bed and curled her fingers into the plunging V of her dress, bringing her globes back into the light. Rising out of her clothing, the dual swollen spherical bulges really did seem to materialize out of nowhere: a magician’s infinite scarves, only mouth-watering. Though Logan didn’t let the woman feel for a moment that she’d gotten the best of him here, the arrogant Alpha became entranced for the third and last time, gazing deeply into the blubbery abyss as Angelina neared total toplessness. Any second, he expected to see her nipples, with the prickly brown slabs standing thick as rubber pacifiers at the lustful thought, yet again, of an anonymous frat boy dousing them in jizz. Those two hot zones would make ideal bullseye-targets. He jerked faster now, in preparation for a meaningful buildup once the full veiny ashen-skinned ecosystem of her pillowed mammaries was brought out to play.