The Hung Games Pt. 01

Hey all, welcome to another new story! Some of the formatting was lost in the copy-over so if some of the terms bug you, feel free to write and ask me for a more complex version via my contact page here. Enjoy!

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*CLAP!* *CLAP!* *CLAP!*

My tits were slapping together hard, almost as though they wanted to join in with the adulation of the crowd. Most on their feet, all roaring, some of them actively masturbating as they watched the incredible spectacle below that I was a part of. Drone-mounted cameras whizzed as they circled all around me, projecting to monitors huge and small all over the Pleasure Arena, views from every angle of the incredible contest at work. At this particular moment they were capturing the incredible spectacle of a contest nearing its end.

I could see myself on the big monitors, and I have to say for myself that I looked pretty damned good. Even drenched in sweat my long golden hair was fanning out as I tossed my head around, my jaw-dropping tits were bouncing dangerously, the huge milk-tanks were like a pair of huge kasavas on my chest, milk white and pliant with big pink gum-drop nipples, my legs, shapely though not as long as I'd have liked straddled my opponent. They came from a flat tummy, tapering out to my supple hips, thanks to the cameras was even treated to the sight of my own shapely round bubble-butt, loving how the combination of firm muscle and layered fat jiggled and rippled with my every motion.

I, Jasmine Carter, sat on the pelvis of Blaise Jackson, locking my grey-blue eyes to his, sweat spraying off of my body with every bounce of my ass, every clap of my insanely large breasts, with every swing of my head as I fought the orgasms that threatened to carry me away at every deep thrust of the cock burying itself in my ravenous cunt over and over. While sweat was just beginning to bead on my skin, he was drenched in it, rivulets running down the sculptured muscles of his chest and stomach, his eyes probably closed from the sting of salt as much as the effort he was putting into plowing me.

I got low to his face and shouted right into it, "NGH! Fucking hung stud, think you own this pussy? Fucking think again, this pussy owns your fucking cock and all the cum in it! Give it up for me! Cum on, unload those big fucking balls, I fucking want it all!"

He had been a worthy opponent, I almost felt a little guilty for the fact that my clenching pussy was about to vacuum the jizz right out of his balls, to force him to submit to fatigue and my superior fucking. He'd given me three full hours which was almost an hour longer than my previous conquest had been able to muster, and even now to his credit his strong hips were still pumping, trying to meet my thrusts, trying to use his big dick to wear me down, but it was all but over.

When he'd first stepped into the arena, Blaise had been a sight to behold. All swagger and muscles, gorgeous light cocoa skin and a tight afro. Most impressive of all was that thigh-slapping cock that swung limp at seven meaty inches and grew thick and hard at a full ten-and-a-half. Behind Blaise and I there were nine defeated opponents each, he'd finished most of his by getting to a round where he was allowed to employ doggy-style, his speciality. I'd watched footage of his previous fights and every time after the Foreplay round and the Oral round, he'd use his first called position to bend his opponent over and mount them, that was usually it. The man's timing was impeccable, his huge cock felt twice as big when employed in that deep-drilling configuration, and his balls weren't the biggest or lowest-hanging I'd ever seen, just mounted perfectly to hit most clits at the apex of their swing, a perfect signature for his incredible fuck-strokes.

I knew how hard that was to resist, I'd been through many rounds, cumming my brains out, screaming as he did all the work on me like that, but I'd managed to prevail and endure every round of clustering orgasms to finally get to turn the tables on him. Now riding him with every bit of power I had left my cunt threatened to break his dick off and keep it as a trophy, my superior kegeling talents milking his cock more forcefully than most handjobs yet soft and hot and wet.

What pushed me over the top was glimpsing over into the next circular mattress-arena where my promised, Lucas Dowd was wowing the crowd even more impressively. He was so hot, muscular with bunched shoulders and glorious discs for biceps. His hair was darker than mine and cut fairly short, making a nice combination with his pretty green eyes. Perhaps his most distinctive mark was the huge woven flame tattoo he had that ran from his left shoulder to his upper back, why he'd want to cover any of that gorgeous muscle with ink I didn't know, but it was still hot. Best of all, while my genes had given me the largest tits of any Fuck-Fighter (I knew there were bigger-busted women in the world, but none with my sexual athleticism) his had endowed him with a cock beyond all rational conventions. (In his case, I think he might have had the biggest dick of anyone, fuck-fighter or not)

He was ruining a pair of blondes. They worked well together and had made short work of his doubles partner who was passed out on the corner of the bed, drenched in squirted pussy-juice and sweat, his balls shrunken like prunes from the sheer amount of cum the two sirens had drunk from him with their patented sandwich-fucking techniques.

But now it was the the girls who were in trouble, one was weakly tapping out as Lucas fucked her in a folded-up missionary position, her knees on her chest, the juices he'd gotten from her soaked the bed in a puddle, one her pledged was slipping in as she tried to help by tonguing his enormous balls to no avail.

My promised had already cum three times, but was showing no signs of stopping, the poor girl had probably broken off hundreds of orgasms each by now and exhaustion robbed them of the ability to call new positions at the round breaks. The ball-sucking blonde tried her best to coax him over the top by screaming filth up at him,

"When you're done with my bitch-whore slut partner, you can fuck me instead, I want you to slamfuck me so hard your cock tickles my tonsils, come on stud! NNNNNGH!"

That meant my promised was in control. As the vanquished woman crawled weakly to the side, spooning the finished male, Lucas turned with a triumphant grin, grabbing the blonde who was still in the fight by the waist. The referee for their match gestured to indicate the blond could call a new position, but she was so exhausted and distracted by the fact that her team-mate had just been fucked into a pile of quivering cunt-nectar missed her ten second window to make her choice.

The Referee gestured to Lucas instead who wordlessly selected his position by tilting her back over the bed, swinging his leg over her into a perfect downward drilling fuck-slam. The whole bed shook with his every stroke and the insane size of his enormous dick robbed her of consciousness in just a few dozen strokes. When the Ref came around to make her indicate a willingness to continue she was simply limp.

Finally with a savage roar of triumph he pulled out and used both hands to jack himself off, aiming the preposterous cum-cannon right into her face, cementing his victory with a humiliating facial, wad after giant wad bursting out of his prong to cover her in a mask of thick, gooey sperm.

That was when my own orgasm was triggered by what I was witnessing, my cunt feeling like it turned on a vacuum, literally pulling the stud I was bouncing on several inches off the ground by his dick. My body rocked and my tits clapped together a final time, louder than all the rest as I shuddered through my orgasm. I might have been in trouble if not for the massive wave setting Blaise off as well, slurping the giant cum blasts from his cock with such force I could almost hear them traveling up his dick and bursting free.

Our ref came around and looked to me, I gave him a tired but happy thumbs up... the same could not be said for Blaise who was barely awake enough to shake his head, admitting defeat. For my own coup I made him give my clit a quick kiss before collapsing beside him, satiated and reflecting happily on the life that had brought me to this incredible moment.

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"Now class, we know throughout history, human lovemaking has been the single most important feature in our complex evolution. We know that early man recognized he was different from other animals by studying the mythos of religion and oral legend..."

Professor was SO boring! As Dr. Ericson droned on I tried to entertain my friends. When he said 'oral' I mimed a blowjob, sticking my tongue into my cheek as my hand jerked lewdly. It got a snicker from some, and some pretty hungry stares too. I can't blame the boys for those, our stupid desks weren't made for tits like mine, I was resting my titanic boobs on the desk, almost swimming in my own cleavage.

"...and so in both the Bible and Gilgamesh, we see that sex is the thing that man sees as dividing himself from animals, which he also knows that he is as well. We even see it happening today. There are colonies of chimps living in South America who have begun to develop rudimentary sign language of their own accord. And what do they have the most complicated conversations about? Sexual positions! Even though none of us will live to see how they change or grow over time, it's obvious that even our ancestors must have made similar jumps..."

Now it was Luke's turn to do some of the entertaining. While the prof talked he'd upped the ante, simply flopping his gigantic soft cock out of his pants, letting a gaggle of coeds who were straining their necks to look watch the pendulous action of his insane soft meat. Of course every girl would have seen hundreds of cocks in her lifetime by now, but what Luke had between his legs was special. Even I was straining to look though I worked hard to be less obvious about it.

It's crazy, even though we're promised and pledged, even though I've seen him his whole adult life, his dick still manages to impress me. It wasn't until I began to qualify for the fuck-fights that I began to see studs that could at least begin to compete with him.

"...some scientists and speculative authors have had fun playing with the idea of what our world would be like if sex were not the predominant force that moved it. Some theorize that we might have embraced violence instead. That instead of the petty scuffles we sometimes have a few times over the course of a life, some people would gain control over others through nothing more than sheer aggression and the infliction of pain or harm. That perhaps, in some true dystopia, people would sell handguns as readily as sex toys, or even gather together for mass slaughters in two-sided conflicts that might be called 'wars'. Of course this is all in the realm of science fiction, but it's incredible to imagine how different the world would have been if we tried to hide sex or made it taboo."

That part wasn't as boring, and whole class had actually tuned in for a moment. Thank Climax we didn't live in such an awful, shitty world as that.

Then we we all went back to looking at Luke's dick. One of his giant balls was out now, resting in its hairless weight on the edge of his chair, the damned thing was at least the size of an avocado, and I could only shake my head at how manly my promised was.

Dr. Ericson interrupted our little ogle-fest,

"Mr. Dowd is making an excellent point actually. Would you come to the front of the class, please?"

Luke shrugged and started to tuck his bits away but Dr. Ericson put up a hand indicating that he should stop,

"No, I need that out. Come on."

The briefest blush might have flashed across my promised's face, but he'd always been way too much of an exhibitionist for shame to hold him back for long. He stood, holding his pants up to keep his ass from showing as he walked to the front, thick-thigh-slapping cock swinging back and forth like an elephant's trunk with every step. He turned and face the class, that insane log of meat dangling down to just a few inches above his knees, I licked my lips and I know I wasn't the only one.

"In the kinds of alternate world we're talking about here, it is extremely unlikely that any man would ever be as well-endowed as Mr. Dowd. In fact, our overall average of 8 inches would be considered quite large by the standards they would use. Women who were drawn to men of greater violent power, or," and the whole class shuddered at the very thought as he continued,

"reproduction would even be determined by men who had no interest or skill in arousing their partners at all. In such a world the average penis size would be dragged woefully down by early common ancestors not selecting mates for pleasure the way we know ours did."

I shook my head in astonishment. 8 inches was an average size for men when hard. Luke was already significantly longer than that soft. No wonder he'd already been given consideration to participate in the year's upcoming fuck-fight tourney. He still had to qualify for the judges, but looking at everything from his impressive 6'5" height, his gorgeously sculpted body, and of course, above all, his already-legendary cock, there was no doubt in my mind that he'd get in.

Little did Luke realize I planned to be right on his heels.

With the way my guide had trained me, my chances were pretty good.

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After my conquest of Blaise, I lay in the arena on the mattress for a while. That was pretty normal, the audience liked to see us recover, even if that was sometimes with protracted periods of sleep. Some fighters were cuddlers, it was often directly proportional to how aggressive they might be in the ring. Some fighters made a point to NEVER rest afterwards, they'd stand and walk from the arena, even if they were shaky or walking funny from getting thoroughly gaped. To that type it was important to demonstrate perfect control at all times, but I think it just smacks of insecurity.

But I do have a little "move". I like to cuddle up close with whoever I've just vanquished (I may lose some day, but I haven't yet) and rest my massive tits on them, it's a sort of show of dominance, but something most guys appreciate too. Win-win. After I'd rested enough, I finally stood, asking Blaise if he was ready to go, but he shook his head, dreamy smile on his face even in defeat. I shrugged and gave him a fond stroke on the cheek before making my way for the Arena's recovery area.

I joined other fuck-fighters in the vast showers, admiring their gorgeous bodies as we all diligently scrubbed away the sweat and cum and slobber of the day's bout. It was just a handful of other people by now... earlier in the tournament every single shower would have been occupied, but with each round more people were eliminated.

After the shower I carefully stored my prize-winning tits in the elaborate red bra my guide bought me to celebrate qualifying for the competition, it had the look of a smaller lace number that are normally only available to smaller girls, but this one was engineered to serve my pair up. The top I'd brought was a low-cut number that showed the push-up effect the bra had perfectly. This was strategy, nothing served to intimidate opponents between rounds more than a reminder that I was the biggest-breasted thing they'd ever see, and that while the men wouldn't be able to handle me, the women wouldn't be able to compete with me either.

I didn't just walk, I swaggered with a lot of sashay between rounds, I wanted the world to see my round ass and tremendous tits at work. If there's one thing my life has taught me, it's that sexual tension is a powerful force. As much as the human race might idolize the act itself, the build-up is the true wonder, where our libidos act like a battery that keeps charging and charging with no limit to how much power it can hold until we find release. I think Lucas and I had been charging each other our whole adult lives, and now it was coming out in huge bursts of unstoppable energy as we walked over opponent after opponent, unleashing the electricity we'd been generating for years in giant bursts.

Although I have to admit he was generating more of the same in me as I got to watch many of his rounds. I'd assumed for a long time that my promised was just arrogant, but now knew that nothing could be further from the truth. In every fight his technique was impressive, and utterly dominant, he controlled every round whether he was the one picking the position or not. I'd watched shy girls do things they never thought they could, watched haughty, sneering beauty queens crumble beneath the relentless pounding of his dick, and man after man fail to rise to the occasion near him, he crushed cervixes and male egos alike.

By the time I'd reached the athlete's bar I was feeling utterly invincible.

At least until she walked in.

I was probably the last person to notice her. I'd been watching the highlights of my latest fight, loving how the cameras loved my body from every angle as Blaise pounded away in his signature doggy-style, when I realized that every head in the bar had turned.

I followed where they were looking to an unbelievably gorgeous brunette with bright red lips and hazel eyes. She was dressed far more casually than me, probably a few inches taller in her comfortable looking sneakers, long-legged blue-jeans that hugged the expansive curve of a pair of hips that put my own to shame, then tapered into a white tank-top that exploded in the chest. Sharp pangs of jealousy stabbed through my chest as my eyes devoured those breasts, and it wasn't until she'd walked further in and I saw her profile that I calmed to realize she was still a cup size or two smaller, but the closest thing to a boob-rival I'd ever come across.

That didn't stop my jealous heart from also noticing that hers were a little firmer than mine, a fact that was rubbed in when she had the bartender put on one of her fights; in every highlight no matter what the position, her tits just stayed up, they'd never quite clap together like mine did. But they certainly knew how to dance. What concerned me the most was that it was her tenth round fight too and while mine dragged on for hours, hers was over in a mere twenty minutes, the screen displayed her name as she milked the last drops of cum from a deflating big dick right into her mouth.

Desiree Malone.

I'd heard the name before, just from snatches of conversation in hushed excited tones. She was apparently tearing dicks up on the circuit, so to speak.

She looked at me as I looked at her and pursed her thick lips into a smug smile.

"Jasmine Carter. I'm coming for you," she said.

Just like her body, her voice was all sex.

"People usually do," I shot back, "that's why they lose."

"I'm not going to lose to you. Watch this, bitch."

She turned and walked back out of the bar, I peeked out after and saw her approach the secured-off area where fans gathered to shout their adulation at athletes as best they could. She tagged three strapping young men and brought them back inside with her, lining them all up by the bar.

"What are you doi—" I'd started to ask when she commanded all three boys to drop their pants. Dicks flopped out and she got to her knees, seizing the cocks on her right and left in her hands and putting her face to the one in the middle. She hungrily devoured the one dangling nine-incher as she began to massage and tug the tenner to her left and the other nine, all three had become hard practically the second she touched them.

She was a whirlwind of motion, her head bobbing faster and faster, her tits swaying and jiggling, her hands working in alternate pumps like a pair of machines. Of course I'd been timing and she was only a minute in. The dicks in her hands shot off, she let it rain on her, not caring where their loads clung to her hair and shirt, staining her cheeks.