Cleaned 24

By timos111@hotmail.com


Brad had been increasingly making himself scarce these 
past few weeks.  It seemed he had fallen in with a 
bunch of musically like-minded guys, and they were 
working on something big.  To Brad, Doug's apartment 
was now just a place to shit-shower-shave and gobble 
some cornflakes before dashing off across town for yet 
another practice session or gig.

This suited Janelle just fine, 'cos then the coast 
would be clear for her to brutalize Doug at her 
leisure. 

But on the occasions their paths did cross, Brad 
would wheedle and whine about Auntie Nerissa's promise 
to him.

"Has she called?"

"Who?"

"Auntie N.  Any message?"

"Nope."

"But she did mean it, right?"

"Mean what?"

"About hooking me up with some producers.  Some music 
moguls.  She did mean it, right?"

"How da fuck should I know?"

This kind of response was guaranteed to leave him 
surly and morose.

But amazingly, about three weeks after Hurricane 
Nerissa had struck the apartment, Janelle was phoned 
by her and asked to pass on a message to Brad.

It was tantalizingly brief.

"Be ready at 10.00pm this Friday.  Bring your guitar."

"Just me?  What about my buddies?"

"How da fuck should I know?"

Janelle was seriously thinking of having that printed 
as a slogan on a t-shirt, so she could wear it around 
the apartment and just point at it every time he asked 
another question.  

Friday night, at last.

Doug was boring the other two stupid by watching CNN.  
Brad, who'd got himself ready hours before, went to 
the fridge for a coke.

Janelle appeared suddenly beside him in the kitchen, 
and deftly unzipped the fly of his artfully ripped 
jeans.  He jumped, and nearly dropped his cola.

"Janelle!" he hissed so Doug wouldn't hear, "Give it a 
rest, will ya?"

"What undies you got on?  I wanna see."

"Please!  Gimme a break, tonight of all nights!"

But he secretly thrilled that her hand was rummaging 
right next to his dick, which went almost instantly 
hard.

"Brad!  You're supposed to be wearing the panties I 
gave you!  Get rid of these briefs at once!"

"But ..."

"NOW!  And I shall want to inspect once you're done 
changing them."

That was more like it.  He wouldn't easily forgo 
another chance to have her fumble with his prick.  He 
was back in an instant, and even undid his fly for 
her.  

Janelle inserted her hand to verify from the slippery 
feel of the fabric that the swap she'd ordered had 
indeed taken place.  She took care to leave her hand 
against his boner for perhaps a fraction longer than 
was really necessary.  God, the boy was big!

But to her, that was completely beside the point.  The 
point was, tonight might be his night.  Tonight he'd 
be strutting his stuff on stage, trying to prove he 
had the chops to go far in the music biz as a macho 
gee-tar hero. And all the while he'd have a pair of 
her own silky, dainty knickers adorning his nether 
regions.  The thought of it was just too delicious!
 
At the appointed time, Auntie N's voice crackled in 
the apartment speakerphone.

"Brad? You ready, boy?  Git yer ass on down here!"

He shot out the door, with battered Fender guitarcase 
trailing behind him.

Down at street level, Nerissa's imposing bulk was 
leaning casually against an enormous white stretch-
limo pulled up next to the curb.  She had party gear 
on, as did three other black chicks talking and 
giggling inside.

These companions were of far more svelte proportions 
than Nerissa, which was just as well because there was 
still quite a log-jam of long dark legs filling the 
cabin space by the time they had all piled in.  Brad 
tried, fairly unsuccessfully, to avoid glancing up any 
of their miniskirts.  They tittered at his obvious 
discomfort.

"Girls!  This is Brad.  He wants to be a star."

"Hi Braaad!" they all chorussed, and he blushed.  He 
was squashed up hard against Nerissa's meaty thigh. 
She took up as much seatroom as two of the other 
ladies combined.

They didn't need to be driven all that far, just to 
the other end of the downtown district.  Into a 
private parking building and then, girls giggling and 
tottering along on very spiky heels, they crammed into 
an elevator.

They emerged into a lobby, which was full of people.  
Noisy people.  Party people.  Young girls, black, 
white and Asian, in outrageous outfits.  Guys ranging 
from young and cool to middle-aged and moneyed.  The 
drinks had been flowing for a while already, it 
seemed.  

Behind them all, he could see through long mid-level 
windows into inner rooms.  Guitars, amplifiers and 
assorted band gear were set up in there.  Tangled 
black thickets of electric leads dangled and ran 
everywhere.

So - it was a recording studio. Self-consciously 
he slid his guitar case behind a reception desk to get 
it out of sight.

Over the din and hub-bub, Nerissa spoke in his ear.

"They just completed an album."

"Who?"

She pointed out some faces in the room, and he 
recognised them at once as a well-respected and 
already-established hard-rock act.

"They finally got it all in the can this afternoon, so 
they ready to let off some steam now.  It's always a 
milestone, even if that's mostly the easy part."

"What is?"

"Laying down the tracks.  That can happen pretty 
quick, if they got their shit together.  It's the 
mixing and post-production that takes the time."

"But they don't hafta do that, right?  They got 
engineers to do all that."

"If they got any sense, they'll stick around for the 
mixing.  It's a critical part of the artistic 
process."

He nodded sagely, as if he already knew that.

One of the other chicky-babes re-appeared and pressed 
a drink into his hand.  Bourbon and coke, it tasted 
like.  He barely sipped at it.  Gotta stay alert for 
his big chance.

"Tommy!" Nerissa yelled at a paunchy guy walking past.  
Balding on top, he had long greying hair tied back in 
a ponytail.

"Nerissa!" he acknowledged, "How ya doin'?  Thanks for 
helpin' me keep these guys organised this past week."

"Thanks for use of your limo."

"You're most welcome."

"Tommy this is Brad, the kid I was tellin' ya about 
the other day."

Tommy gave Brad a look up and down, but didn't address 
him directly.

"You said he can play?  You heard him already?"

"Not yet" Nerissa acknowledged, "but he's keen to jam.  
I tole him if he falls flat on his ass then that's his 
own lookout."

"Yeah, why not? They'll probably want to crank up some 
amps in a little while.  They're happy to jam with 
all-comers, so long as you can hold your own."

Sure enough, after about another hour of indulgence in 
alcohol and perhaps one or two other substances, a 
couple of the guys Nerissa'd pointed out made their 
way to some instruments set up at the far end of the 
lobby. They took up the bass, drums and keyboard 
slots, while the guitars got picked up by people Brad 
didn't recognise.  

A blizzard of fat-sounding licks from one of the 
guitars hushed the room momentarily, then they eased 
into that staple of all jam sessions, a slow blues.  
Pretty soon the din from the other merrymakers had 
risen back to its previous level, but was as nothing 
now compared to the band as they picked up momentum.

The players were slick and professional, yet relaxed 
and having fun.  Playing with humour, almost.  And 
very fucking good.  Brad wondered who the guitarists 
were.  He knew they were not members of this 
particular band.

"Where's ya gee-tar?"

It was Nerissa that was yelling in his ear.

He pointed.

"Get it out, and go stand by the speaker stack."

"Huh?"

"They'll see you, and ask you up."

"But ... will they know my stuff?  I want to play my 
stuff!"

"Fuck your stuff!  If ya wanna get noticed, ya first 
gotta play well on their stuff!  It's their jam!"

With these words, she poked him forwards.

He was nervous as he stood there waiting. Impatient, 
too.  He wanted to be up and running.

They did three numbers before the drummer finally 
yelled something at one of the guitarists, who un-
slung his axe and proffered the jack-plug of its lead 
to Brad.

He stepped up, plugged in, and waited expectantly as 
the drummer counted them in.

It was fast and furious, and he sat out for the first 
few bars until he'd found his bearings within the 
tune.  As soon as he'd got it he took over the rhythm, 
blocking in the chords so the other guy could go 
noodling off into the stratosphere.

It was a simple enough tune, built on pretty standard 
changes.  So simple, he really had to do something 
different with it.  These guys were good, and well-
respected and everything, but they obviously hadn't 
yet heard what an unknown bunch of young, pimply and 
out-of-work teenagers had been brewing lately in the 
garages of this city.

So when it was his turn to blow, it came out like 
pent-up fury.  Fuck tasteful licks, here comes the 
next New Thing!  There was a fuzz-box on the rack in 
front of him, and he'd kicked it in as soon as he was 
ready for single-note lines.  Jagged, angular phrases, 
weird tonality that pushed at the boundaries of 
tunefulness, swooping up to chiming arpeggios that 
created a massive wall of sound.  This boy had been 
very busy these past few weeks!

It was getting attention.  Quite a few of the jaded 
party people there had perked up to check out what was 
happening.

Not that he knew it yet.  He could literally play with 
his eyes closed, and often did just that.  His solo 
reached its crescendo, and burst in an orgasmic rush.  
Then he eased back into rhythm mode so the keyboard 
could have a go.

He caught the bass player nodding in a grudging 
approval.  It'd come across as kinda weird, but it had 
worked.  This kid could certainly play, and had his 
own style.  Something really fresh.

Brad stayed for another tune after that, then the 
drummer was urging him to unplug for someone else 
waiting in the wings.  He scuttled back to the 
reception area and stowed his guitar in its case 
again.

Nerissa was there.

"What da fuck d'ya call that?  I ain't never heard 
nobody play like that before!"

Now Brad may still be young and lacking in confidence 
on certain matters in life, but on musical issues he 
had unshakable convictions.

"I don't EVER wanna play like anybody you've heard 
before!"

Tommy the Producer sidled up at that moment.

"Nice one, kid.  That was ... different."

"Thanks."

"There's more than just the one of you, am I right?"

"Yeah, there is." 

"Are any of you writing at all?"

"Yeah, it's totally our own stuff."

Tommy pressed a business card into Brad's hand.

"Call me when you next got a gig, so's I can check 
y'all out." 

"I'll definitely do that."

Tommy patted him on his shoulder, then moved on.

"Wow!" Brad exclaimed to Nerissa, "Is he serious!"

"On music and money, Tommy is always serious." Nerissa 
replied and added wistfully, "On women, he is never 
serious."

After that Brad relaxed and began to enjoy himself.  
He felt the way you do at school when exams have just 
ended.  The next six bourbons slid down so nice and 
easy that he scarcely felt their impact.

Then he went to the bathroom for a pee.  In order to 
wash his hands after, he had to jostle for space at 
the wash-stand.  They had a piece of mirror laying 
flat there, with some lines of powder on it.  

"Are ya on for some blow?" they asked him, having all 
just indulged and finding there were a couple of lines 
left over.

Well that's mighty hospitable of them, he thought, and 
felt too polite to spurn such a gesture.  Inexpertly 
he snorted up a line with the silver tube they'd held 
out to him, then started on another.

"Hey, take it easy!" he was told.  "Fuck, you'll be 
going ape-shit if ya don't watch out!"

Back at the party, his glass of bourbon seemed to keep 
re-filling itself by magic thanks to the attentions of 
chicky-babe number-two, Darlene.  

He felt energised.  Perceptions clear, and thoughts 
profound.  All systems go. The jam session was roaring 
full-tilt, yet he could swear he'd still be able to 
hear a pin drop.

Nerissa was saying something to him, but it sounded 
tiny and far away.

He got the urge to be outta there, somewhere clear, 
somewhere fresh.  Somewhere dark.

Wandering about the room, he saw a small group head 
down a corridor and he followed.  Through a sliding 
glass door the corridor opened out onto a roof-top 
terrace.

This was more like it!  The breeze was cool and 
invigorating.  The lights of the city looked magical.  
The higher storeys, with their rooftop superstructure 
of aerials and dishes, were lit up like an ancient 
Greek temple.

He got close to the edge of the parapet and stood 
there, pointed up into the breeze.  At this altitude 
the wind had considerable force, and he felt moved to 
lift his outstretched arms like an albatross ready to 
take flight.

He stood there, transfixed, arms out, bourbon glass 
still clutched in one hand, and looking for all the 
world like Christ on Calvary.

And that was the way Nerissa found him, after sending 
out the search parties.

She approached him.

"Brad?  You okay?"

To him her voice was still faraway, and it barely 
registered.  He himself seemed incapable of speech.

"Brad?"

One by one Nerissa uncurled his fingers from the glass 
in his hand and took it, sniffing its contents 
suspiciously.  She hurled it from the building, making 
a mental note to interrogate Darlene as to whether 
she'd been up to any of her tricks again.

Then she tried to get his arms back down to his sides.  
She had to use considerable force.  He didn't react at 
all to being manhandled like this.

"Brad!  We better go.  Can you walk?"

Brad didn't answer, and just stared ahead fixedly.

Nerissa got her arms around him in a bear-hug and 
tried to lift him with a view to physically carrying 
him back in the building.  

This brought home to her two facts.

First, she ain't gonna be able to lift him that way, 
'cos he's a big lad.

Second, there seemed to be an obstruction that one 
needed work around, when trying to lift him like that.   
An obstruction because, well ... because he's a big 
lad.

Just how big, Nerissa suddenly felt honour-bound to 
ascertain.

What was with this colossal boner?  Had she herself 
been the cause of it just now, or was he thinking of 
something else altogether?  Just what he was thinking 
was impossible to discern, as his mind seemed very far 
away. 

Yet that mighty ridge in his trouser front was 
extremely tangible.  She laid a hand upon it to re-
check her earlier finding.

Yup, that's a boner all right.  

It must be so confining in there!  Such cruel, tight 
jeans. It must be begging for release!

In a trice Nerissa had him undone and sent in an 
exploratory hand.  Weird briefs, kinda slippery-
feeling for a guy's, and of dimensions woefully 
inadequate to contain all of that cock.  She fished it 
out.

Fuck!

Nerissa had a long familiarity with cocks.  In fact, 
she and cocks go way back.  But this one took the 
cake.  

Fuck!  Look-it the size o' that thang!

She sank to her knees, and gazed in awe.

Wonderful cock!  So big, so strong! So ... so ... 

To hell with superlatives, actions always spoke louder 
than words.  She fell upon it.  Wrapped her full lips 
around it.  Slurped it in, and devoured it.

She was at it for some considerable time.  It got 
harder, bigger, if that were possible.  She was 
blowing him as vigorously as she'd ever done to anyone 
in her life, really going to town on it.

She felt possessed by a strong urge to make him spurt, 
to have him shoot all over her billowy boobs, to watch 
his reactions as she held his life in her hands and 
extracted every last drop of his very essence.  To 
test her power to reduce that mighty weapon back down 
to cute-n-cuddly mode.

She glanced up to give him what she considered to be 
one of her most smouldering looks, and saw ... no 
reaction.  He was still staring fixedly forward.

Fuck, was this boy ever gonna cum?

Didn't look like it.

Exasperated, she gave up and stowed his tackle back in 
his trousers.  This was obviously going to take time.  
Her urge was nevertheless increased rather than 
lessened by this set-back.  

Better go get help.  Gotta get the boy into the right 
environment.

She returned in a jiffy with one of the roadies, and 
between the two of them they got Brad back inside to 
the elevator.  No one paid them any attention - bodies 
being carried out were obviously a familiar sight at 
these functions.

They bundled Brad into the limo, and Nerissa thanked 
the roadie for his assistance.  Then it was "Home, 
James!" to the driver.

They got him up to her apartment by the same method, 
and she tipped James handsomely by the time he was 
done.

After locking the apartment door she turned, laced her 
fingers together, and flexed her chubby arms out in 
front of her to make her knuckles crack.  Well 
Nerissa, this is going to be a challenge!

She tugged and rolled him about the bed until his 
shirt was off and his jeans were partway down.

Goddam!

What the hell are those?

Girl's panties!

Well I'll be darned, Nerissa thought to herself.  

She pulled them down his thighs a tad, then did 
another double-take.

He had absolutely no pubic hair.  His cock and balls 
were  
as bare and smooth as a baby's bottom.

This kid is obviously weirder than she thought.

She got rid of the panties along with his jeans, thus 
rendering him completely naked.  Then she poured 
herself out of her own slinky outfit.  Her colossal 
boobs were heaving from all of this exertion, so she 
paused to catch some breath and admire her handiwork.

He appeared to be conscious, but remained passive.

He looked beautiful - a true Adonis.  Wonderfully 
sculptured physique, nil body hair, milk-white 
complexion.

And that enormous phallus, still fully erect.

She was going to take her time and enjoy this.  He 
must surely succumb.  Ain't no cock had ever got her 
beat before now!

She got on the bed beside him, making the mattress 
sink down by about two feet.  Her huge brown butt rose 
up like a mountain, while her stomach hung down 
completely hiding her pussy from view.

Build him up slowly, that'd be the way to go.  She ran 
her hands lightly all over his chest and washboard 
stomach, and circled his inner thighs.  She kept 
looking for a reaction, but got none.

She grasped that enormous dick, and started gently 
tugging its foreskin back and forth over the glans.  
He was uncircumcised, so ought to be sensitive.  She 
leaned over a bit so her tongue could now tease his 
nipple.  If he liked that, he didn't show it.

This ought to be getting him worked up.  Ought to have 
him wanting to touch her in return, fondle her, man-
handle her, mount her, pound her to a ...

Nope.  He was still a zombie.

She leaned across him further and flopped a tit over 
his 
face, contriving to have its nipple gently rub across 
his lips.

She took his hand and pressed it to her snatch, 
trapping it there between her huge and dimpled thighs.

Still nothing.

That prick was hard in the extreme, though.  Something 
must be getting through.

And she was horny.  Ya don't see a cock like that 
every day!  Be a shame not to use it!

She got up and straddled him, holding his dick up to 
herself and gingerly inserting it.  Nerissa was 
certainly no tight virgin, but she had to really take 
care with this particular donger.  God, it was a snug 
fit!  She steadily lowered herself until she reached 
its hilt.  She felt stretched, really filled by him.

She began some gentle fuck motions, to get her insides 
accustomed to his size.  It was amazing how the human 
body can adapt!

He still hadn't batted an eyelid.  Nor did he as 
Nerissa began humping him harder.  Tits flailing, rump 
heaving back and forth, she hurled herself against him 
time and again.  She kept this up until she reached 
the limits of exhaustion, by which time she had 
achieved a total of three orgasms.

Finally she had to roll off him and lay there, panting 
and spent.  

His fully-erect dick glistened with her juices in the 
glow of the bedside night-light.  His eyes were open, 
but still nothing seemed to register.  And he still 
hadn't cum.

Nerissa had to admit defeat.

Tired and sated, she dozed off and left him to it.

She awoke from a feeling that she was being watched.

It was now morning - there was daylight streaming  
through a small gap in the drapes.

Brad had his head propped up on one elbow, and was 
gazing down at her.  How long he'd been doing that, 
she had no way of knowing.  She was naked as a 
jaybird, but hey, what the hell, so was he.

 "Good morning, Auntie N."

"It talks!  A fuckin' miracle!"

Her next thought was to glance down at his cock.  It 
was now soft and flaccid, yet still bigger while down 
than most men when up.

"This dick of yours, does it work properly?"

"Sure. It works fine."

"It didn't work last night.  I nearly had a hernia 
tryin' ta get you to jizz!"

"You looked to be having fun, though."

"You swine!  You were hip to what was happenin' the 
whole goddam time?"

"Yeah, sort of.  I mean, I was pretty wasted.  But you 
do make a strong impression on a fella." 

"I kin make a strong impression on your face with a 
bunch of fives, you contrary, no-good, dumb-ass white 
boy!  You had me workin' like a niggah for every last 
orgasm!  Poundin' my pussy is supposed to be the man's 
job!"

"Sorry.  But at least you had an orgasm!"

"Don't tell me, you still haven't cum?  I would’a 
thought you’d have jerked yourself off by now, the way 
you been 
spyin' on me in my sleep!"

"No, honest! I been waiting for you to wake up."

"Waiting?" she taunted.  "Waiting for ... what?"

Brad blushed crimson, and remained silent.

"And another thing.  What the hell are these?"

She held up the pair of panties she'd found him 
wearing.

He blushed even deeper crimson.  Oh fuck, he'd 
forgotten about those.

"C'mon!  The truth now!"

"I ... ah ... well ... Janelle wanted me to wear 
them." 

"WHAT!??!"

"Janelle.  She gave me instructions to put them on."

"Since when does Janelle give you instructions?"

"Since she ... ah ... caught me jackin' off with a 
pair of hers I took from the laundry basket.  She says 
I now have to wear 'em all the time, or she'll tell 
Doug on me."

"Did she now, the little bitch!"

Nerissa's mind was reeling with this new information 
about her niece.  In fact, she was almost in a state 
of shock.

"And what else does she instruct you to do?"

"A coupla times she's made me jack off in front of 
her.  And lately she made me shave off my crutch 
hair."

"Anything else?"

"No, that's it."

Poor, naïve kid, Nerissa reflected.  She was certainly 
going to chew out a piece of Janelle next time they 
got together.  Cradle-snatcher! Inflicting God knows 
what kind of kink on a mere boy!  She should pick on 
somebody her own size!

And speaking of size ... she found herself glancing at 
his dick again.  There was unfinished business here.  
And she found that she still had an appetite.  It'd 
better be different from last night though!  Could she 
make a man of him yet?  It was worth a try.

She slithered right the way across to him, and found 
him expectant, hopeful.  They immediately went into a 
clinch, and her mouth found his.  Their lips mashed 
together, tongues swirling frantically as each made  
strong efforts to penetrate the other's mouth.  Hands 
were going everywhere, groping, grabbing, tugging, 
teasing.

He grappled with her fat pussy, sliding his fingers 
along the deep trench surrounding her slit. Her hands 
were at his cock, naturally.  It swelled and throbbed 
under her touch.  It felt enormous.

Nerissa came up for some air.

"Skip the foreplay.  Just fuck me."

She rolled onto her back, flung her massive legs as 
far apart as they could go, and pulled her stomach up 
out of the way.  He reared above her and literally 
dived on top.  He wasn't very gentle about entering 
her.  His cock slid in with the easy force of a 
hydraulic ram, and he heard her go "Ooooof!"

She didn't complain though, and grabbed two fist-fulls 
of his pale buttocks in an effort to force him in 
deeper.

He responded in good measure.  Starting out slowly 
owing to the tightness of the fit, he soon found the 
grip of her fanny upon him so delicious that it 
seemingly urged him to go faster.

For her part, she did not often come across a dick as 
satisfying as this one.  Who said size doesn't matter?  
Bullshit.  This was fuckin' glorious.  She felt 
possessed, ravished.  Stretched wide open and pinned 
to the bed.  Oh wonderful schoolboy!  Go harder!  Fuck 
me harder!  Fuck me 'til it hurts!

Nerissa was quaking like a jelly, big boobs rolling 
loosely about her chest.  Each of Brad's powerful 
thrusts sent big waves rippling through her brown 
flesh, as if boulders were being dropped into a pool 
of molten chocolate.

"Oh Brad!  Ohhhhhh faaaaarrrrk!  Nnnggggghhhhh!  
Ohhhh-oh!"

He in turn gasped repeatedly, and even gave out a few 
grunts as his buttocks went into overdrive.  The 
convulsions of her orgasm squeezed upon his cock, 
which was now itself in spasms.  His cum flowed 
everywhere, in her and dripping out of her.  It was 
massive.  He hadn't known his balls could even hold so 
much cum.  But then again, it had been ... ahem ... a 
long time cumming!

Chest heaving, the beautiful boy rolled off her and 
collapsed at her side.  The smell of sex hung heavy in 
the room.

Jeezuz!  So this is what's meant by "a woman of 
passion"!  A far cry indeed from the timid and nervous 
white girls he'd dated in high school, who always 
treated his dick as warily as if it were a 
rattlesnake!

Nerissa recovered her breath and re-focussed her 
vision, turning to look at Brad in wonder.  She felt 
very sticky and messy down there right now, and more 
than a little tender.  How long might it be before she 
could walk properly again?

She reached out a hand and encircled his now deflated 
dick.

"Lovely boy.  This prick is gonna be mine from now 
on."

He gazed into her soft brown eyes.

"Y'know, Auntie N, I watched you for ages while you 
were sleeping.  You look so beautiful."

Ah, Brad!  She felt sure she was going to bless the 
day she found him!