Brock cucks Punk. Let’s make that a chant.
April whimpered breathlessly as her handful-sized breasts were fondled in her lover’s over-sized hands. “Please, be gentle…”
She squealed as he pumped his dick into her, pushing her further into the lush pillows. “Oh, God,” she hissed out, before she yelled, “Harder, you son of a bitch!”
Brock looked down at the small girl wrapped around his cock with reverence. Sometimes, crazy was good.
Her tiny, tight pussy almost crushed his dick as he forced it into her, and she seemed to be suffering no ill effects – in fact, it’d be a safe bet to guess that the pleasure only intensified for her as he scraped roughly against her velvet walls.
AJ, for her part, placed her Chuck Taylors back against his thighs as she braced herself for the fucking only Brock could give, as he had done many times before.
Her shaved pussy squelched noisily in the empty hotel suite, and nothing but the gasps and moans of little AJ Lee could overcome the lewd noises.
With a particularly powerful thrust, her bubble-butt smacked against his blond pubic region, and she cried out in pain and pleasure at the uncomfortable feeling of being overstuffed.
She blinked away the tears and took a heaving breath, letting her conqueror do whatever he pleased to her.
The affair started a year earlier – almost exactly a year, actually. Several weeks after her then-boyfriend, CM Punk, lost to Brock in a No Disqualification Match. Punk, in his ever-reaching wisdom and quest to take down Paul Heyman, convinced her to distract Ryback away from the door leading to Paul’s dressing room.
And with a skip down the hall, and a quick kick to the gonads, AJ had successfully distracted the Big Oaf.
Unfortunately, once inside, they found not Paul, but Brock Lesnar. And he had company.
On her knees, sucking and spitting at his massive cock with wild enthusiasm, was the beautiful former diva, Lita.
Punk, seeing his past girlfriend servicing his enemy, watching her do things to the Beast’s massive dick that she had never done to his own modest equipment, watched helplessly as Brock, still unaware of the two onlookers, grabbed a fist-full of her hair and fucked her face merrily, her large freckled tits rubbing against his pale legs.
Her little black dress was ripped on her frame, her spike heels digging into the lush carpet as the future hall-of-famer followed his rough motions flawlessly, her fingers buried in her red-furred snatch as she gagged on the cock sliding down her tight throat.
AJ stared lustfully at the alluring sight, seeing her idol on her knees taking the biggest cock she had ever seen. Her pussy clenched a little, watching the unbelievably sexy display, and her moist lips parted in a moan.
Neither noticed Ryback coming up from behind, and AJ shrieked in surprise as CM Punk was bashed in the skull by his elbow. He went out like a light, falling limp to the ground.
Brock Lesnar turned his head around and grinned at the sexy little diva, and while her ring gear consisted of booty shorts and a loose belly-baring shirt, she’d never felt so exposed.
He untangled one of his hands from the buxom diva below him, and waved her over.
Stuck between a man who she had just kicked in the balls, and a man who seemed to have successfully taken charge of the fiercest woman she knew, it didn’t take long for her to start scampering over to the larger athlete, her flat-soled shoes pattering against the soft ground.
When she was close enough, Lesnar reached out and pulled her closer, grabbing her by her small, perfectly rounded ass encased in her tight black and pink shorts. She moaned as her body rubbed against his giant muscle-packed frame, her small, delicate hands clenching around his powerful arms.
Quickly enough, his large fingers snuck into her cotton confines, and she moaned in surprise as he slid a finger along her soaking quim.
Lita didn’t yet notice, didn’t care, or was too far gone, stretching her moist pink lips around the god-cock that tickled her tonsils, fucking herself with two fingers and pulling at his clean-shaven balls with her other hand. His musky scent filled her senses, and she practically bounced on her fingers in tandem with his big, pale cock sliding in and out of her throat.
Her juices quickly leaked down to her knee-length black socks, and April Jeanette Lee threw her head back as she grinded her hips on his calloused hands. Her eyes wide with desire, she rested her hands on his shoulder, and moaned loudly when he began pumping one of his huge fingers in her slick hole.
With a choked gasp, Lita’s mouth removed herself from the Beast’s massive tool, coughing as she tried breathing through her mouth again for the first time in twenty minutes. She licked her numb lips, and looked over to see a lithe young beauty being fingered ruthlessly by her lover’s thick digits.
She smoothed down her short skirt and stood slowly, her index finger trailing her way up the diva’s tanned, smooth thighs, ending on her bare stomach, lightly tickling the girl’s ribs. “Gift for me?” she wondered in her sensual, smoky voice, admiring the Divas champion’s small, packed frame as she shook with barely contained laughter at her ministrations.
He pulled his hand out of the diva’s briefs, and she moaned at the loss. “Strip her,” he muttered, “and go get your strap-on. We’re gonna have fun with her.”
Minutes later, AJ found herself stuck between the two most dominating icons in her childhood, Brock Lesnar and Lita, screaming and crying tears of happiness as she was stretched by the cocks in her, her holes being victimized thoroughly by the most impressive tag team she had ever been fortunate enough to meet. Her virgin ass was ripped open by Lita’s modest strap-on cock, and her pussy was stretched to limits beyond her wildest dreams by Brock’s firm, massive pole.
She grunted as she was pushed back and forth between the two, her bare tits sliding up and down the wide, sweaty chest of the Conqueror, and her back brushing the massive tits of her idol, an idol that she had always secretly admired, an idol that she always hoped would be added to the infamous rivalry of Mickie James and Trish Stratus.
This was so much better than her imaginary HLA matches between the three smoking hot divas. Her legs were at her side, Brock’s arms hooked beneath the crook of her thighs, as she was bounced on the cocks of her heroes.
Her pussy gushed as the Extreme Diva moved over and kissed her sweet lips, squeezing her fleshy mounds with both hands. Driving into her with purpose, the former Diva did her best to try to upstage her lover, fucking the little Diva’s ass quickly and smoothly, loving the way the other end of the purple strap-on rubbed against her own slick pussy lips and distended clit.
Though Lita was trying to dominate the leader of the new generation of Divas, Brock had an even fiercer intent – to ruin CM Punk’s girlfriend for life.
He had nothing against his advocate’s former best friend, but there must’ve been a reason they got past Ryback, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t to shake his hand and tell him that the best man won that Summerslam Match.
He won the battle, and right now, having his girlfriend shaking against his cock in the midst of orgasm, he knew he had won the war.
AJ, back in the hotel room, sighed blissfully as she was filled with his creamy essence, cumming once again as she remembered Lita taking her tiny asshole and stuffing it thoroughly.
She had never tried anal again after that, no matter how many times her now-husband asked, because she knew that there would only be one face in her mind. Of course, when Phil woke, AJ was right by his side. She briefly explained that Paul had hit him in the back with a steel pipe, and Brock and Lita had moved into another room for some privacy.
She wasn’t sure that he bought it, but he never brought it up again. Really, she didn’t know if he had suspicions about her being with Brock right now, her sweaty body laid across the comfy bed in the lush suite, the Beast behind her, fucking her tiny, agile frame into the mattress. He was out trying to pinch every dime out of the company he worked at – the company she still worked at, still headlining every week as the champion.
Whatever. While he was busy trying to stop a video game from being released, she was just going to stay with her big, strong lover.
And she knew just how to make it up to him for her distracted musings.
Brock’s meaty shaft dripped with sticky copulation fluids as he pulled out of her sopping hole with a satisfied grin. No matter how many times he fucked her, her tight, elastic pussy always managed to drain him dry.
Her brown, puckered anus winked at him above her plump vulva, and he brushed his thumb against the pulsing muscle. She moaned, and whispered three words that he almost missed, and he was almost grateful he didn’t.
“Next time, babe.”
Lesnar amended his earlier thought; he was really starting to like crazy. She certainly wouldn’t be skipping anywhere anymore.
The peppy little Latina closed her eyes in a dreamless sleep, her cheek against the pillow, her ass up in the air.
Just as well – he had a very personal interview to catch. He eyed her slightly gaping pussy, his pearly cum oozing out of her parted lips and rolling down her perfect legs, before getting dressed and heading out the door.
On his way out, he sent a text message to Lita that he had left a present for her in his hotel room. She had developed a crush on the little Diva as well, and he would have loved to see their reunion. He was sure they would send pictures.
He remembered to request that she specifically loosen her up. He wasn’t completely unkind. He liked when AJ skipped to the ring. Made his dick jump every time.
With quick fingers, he checked the WWE Network, and found the schedule for the upcoming events.
Good. Young went live in five hours. Plenty of time.