JPS: Peter

“Where are you going, Peter? This party is in your honor.” Marissa looked concerned. Peter was so lucky, not only was his fiancé a supermodel, she was also caring and gracious.

“I know darling, I just have something to take care of.” Peter had been going to these parties since he was a child. As the son of one of the wealthiest Italian importers around, he knew that he could sneak away for a little bit to take care of… personal business.

Peter thought that it might be karma or something. His life, from the outside, was perfect. He was incredibly wealthy. His father was grooming him to take care of the family business. He rubbed shoulders with the elite of high New York society. His fiancé was a supermodel with a heart of gold. 

He himself briefly dabbled in modeling as a hobby. He could have gone far with his dark, statuesque good looks and his finely chiseled body. He looked like Michelangelo carved him from marble. With all of his perfection and good fortune, Peter thought maybe God played was playing a trick on him. That could be the only explanation for what has been happening to him lately.

Once he got to his private suite, Peter quickly removed his finely tailored suit that cost him a fortune. He definitely could afford to get it dirty; he just didn’t want to. He looked in the mirror, turning to the side. What was going on? Why was his ass so big? He was always pretty muscular, a bit beefy, but this was unreal. His ass was like a shelf jutting out, none of his custom-tailored pants fit anymore. Worst of all was the goo. It was always a never-ending trickle, but sometimes it turned into a steady flow of juice.

Peter crawled onto his bed, with the Egyptian cotton and silk sheets. He arched his back and reached underneath his stomach, rubbing his hole. Marissa always came so hard when Peter fingered her, and he had recently discovered by utilizing the same technique on himself, he could temporarily stop the flow of juice.

Suddenly, the door opened. Peter started to scramble in panic, but then breathed a sigh of relief. It was just his bodyguards. Peter didn’t see the need for them, but his father and fiancé insisted that he needed an entourage of four bodyguards with him at all times for his safety. Marissa chose them herself: big, ex-military, black, stonefaced. She said that made them more intimidating. They fidgeted with the security panel next to the door.

“Don’t worry sir, we’ve disabled the security cameras and locked the door, no one will accidentally see you.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. What would happen if people saw him like this, especially Marissa?

“Your fiancé sent us to check on you sir. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I just…” Peter stopped. His mind went blank. It couldn’t be..?

His bodyguards, they were HARD. And they were HUGE. Each one had a snake down the side of his pants, almost to their knees. Small wet stains right where the head was. Peter gulped.

“Don’t worry sir, we know how to fix this.” Peter tried to protest, but nothing would come out. He just stared, transfixed at the obscene sight before him as his bodyguards pulled their huge, leaking hogs out of their suits. They gathered behind Peter, pushed him down on the bed and spread his legs apart. Peter could feel the heavy, large cockhead slapping against his hole. With each slap it was like his hole was sucking it in. One of them – he could never tell them apart – was right behind him, smacking his massive black dong on Peter’s big, Italian bubble butt! Omar (maybe?) grabbed Peter’s hips, lined his cock up, and in one second was balls deep in Peter’s richboy mancunt.

It was like getting hit by a brick wall. Peter could feel every thrust and slap as his bodyguards slammed into them with all of their massive bodyweight. They grunted and groaned, but were controlled, composed, and extremely professional. They were very orderly: as soon as one finished, another took him place, and each got to have a go at Peter’s massive cunt twice.

Peter couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like a bottle of premium luxury champagne ready to pop. Finally, with one last thrust, and his eight load of black muscle cum, Peter let out the first sound he had made during this whole ordeal. With a low moan, Peter could feel the juice gushing out of his body, emptying him out onto his – NO! – expensive, luxury sheets. He barely had time to recover when his bodyguards started to pull him to his feet, get him dressed, and send him back out to the party.

Peter was practically shellshocked. He had no idea what happened, but it was true that his leaking had stopped. One Marissa saw him she ran to his side.

“Are you alright darling? I sent security to check on you. We should hurry up, I think your father is going to make the announcement of you as his successor soon.”

As Peter and Marissa walked back to the party, the bodyguards trailed them. Marissa glanced back towards them. They gave her a quick, stoic nod. One briefly opened his hand, revealing a flash drive. 

Marissa grinned knowingly and happily.