The artificial yellow light from the fake morning sun ca in through the blinds that were halfway open, making lines of light on the ssed-up bedsheets.
Nash was sitting up straight on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but big, loose gym shorts. His muscles still hurt from yesterday when he completely destroyed the Raptors, but his eyes were stuck to his phone screen like glue.
The underground forums and trashy sports gossip sites were going crazy. Big bold titles scread things like "NASH BLAZE: THE NEW KING OF THE STREETS" and "THE RAPTORS MASSACRE: A MONSTER IS BORN."
The comnts sections were total chaos with fans losing their minds, but one post made Nash’s jaw clench. So creepy guys were looking at his old streetball videos, trying to figure out exactly where he lived by looking at buildings in the background.
In these shitty lower city areas, privacy didn’t exist, and this was becoming a real fucking problem.
"You’re gonna go blind staring at that thing," The bedroom door opened, and suddenly the room slled like scrambled eggs, toast, and cut-up fruit. Nash looked up and felt like the air got stuck in his throat.
Zayela had just walked in from the kitchen. She was wearing nothing but a small white cooking apron tied around her tiny waist and neck. Underneath? Basically naked - just a tiny thong disappearing between her huge, round ass cheeks that looked like two perfect peaches.
Every ti she took a step, her big, heavy tits bounced under the thin apron fabric, the sides barely covered so you could see all that soft brown skin.
She put the breakfast tray down on the nightstand, then without saying anything else just plopped right down onto Nash’s lap. The second her hot, soft ass touched his thighs through his shorts, he felt his dick jump like it got electrocuted.
"So you’re famous now, huh?" Zayela said in that lazy, teasing voice of hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smushing those huge tits against his chest. "Every girl in the city’s talking about you today. But while everyone’s freaking out, so real creeps are trying to find our place. If we don’t pack up and move to a safer part of town soon, we won’t have any privacy left."
Nash gulped, his hands hovering over her wide hips.
"Yeah... I know. I was actually talking to Victoria about that. We gotta move closer to her area. It’s getting too dangerous here."
Zayela looked right into his eyes with those golden-brown ones of hers, giving him that slow, hungry smile.
"Yeah, Victoria... You talk about her a lot." She dragged one long fingernail along his collarbone, making his whole body shiver. "Between your crazy training, your gas, and whatever shady stuff you’ve been doing lately... you’ve been ignoring , Nash. I missed you, and I don’t like that."
Nash tried to explain.
"Zay, I had to handle the team stuff, and then the whole plan to... well, you see, I—"
"Shut up and listen," she cut him off, grinding her wet pussy against his growing hard-on through his shorts, feeling his dick twitch under her. "I’m proud you wrecked those Raptors, so I made you a victory present. But it’s also your punishnt."
Nash breathed faster.
"What punishnt?"
Zayela smiled wider, all teeth and mischief.
"A twenty-four-hour sex marathon. Starting now, you’re gonna be buried inside , and you’re not allowed to pull out. Not once. We’ll do normal stuff, eat, clean, whatever... but your dick stays in the entire fucking ti."
Nash’s eyes went wide, his brain fighting the ultra-erotic ntal picture she had just put into his head.
"Zayela, you’re insane... We can’t just... What if soone cos over? What if there’s an ergency—"
"I don’t give a flying fuck about ergency. The only ergency today is your Zay-Zay needing car-rey," she growled against his lips, her voice dropping low as she yanked his shorts down. His huge cock sprang up between them, thick and veiny, twitching in the air.
She straddled him properly now, positioning her dripping slit right over the tip.
"You can’t say no to , Nash. So stop whining and fuck your cousin already."
Nash groaned, completely defeated. Facing the absolute pressure of this anatomical bomb and her addictive insolence, he couldn’t resist, not like he wanted to anyway. He grabbed the full, juicy cheeks of Zayela’s ass, lifting her slightly as she began to slowly slide down onto him.
The mont Nash’s dick slid all the way inside her, she let out a sharp little breath through her nose, her fingers digging into his shoulders like she was holding on for dear life.
Her body had to adjust to how big he was, kike when putting on tight jeans and have to wiggle into them. Except way better.
She felt everything, every bump, every vein, how her insides squeezed around him like they didn’t want to let go. A slow, cocky smile curled her lips as she rocked her hips a little, testing the feeling.
"Mmm... you feel that?" she purred, rolling her hips in slow circles that made his toes curl. "That’s what happens when you ghost for two weeks."
Nash groaned like he’d been punched, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her ass.
"Zay—fuck—"
"Uh-uh." She clicked her tongue, reaching behind her for the breakfast tray like nothing was happening. "Food first. Gotta fuel up for the whole day."
She stabbed so scrambled eggs with her fork and held it to his mouth while still moving on him, her insides pulsing around his dick like she was milking him already.
"Open up."
He ate the eggs like a starving man, barely tasting them because she wouldn’t stop riding him slow and lazy. It was so ssed up, her bouncing lightly on his cock while feeding him like an housewife, syrup dripping from the pancakes onto his bare chest.
"You’re a demon," he choked out, hips jerking when she clenched around him extra tight.
Zayela laughed, tossing her braids over one shoulder.
"Nah, baby. A demon would make you sit there with that big dick twitching inside while I ate all this myself." She picked up a strawberry, bit into it slowly, let the juice run down her chin. "But I’m nice. So I’ll share."
She leaned down, pressed the other half between his lips, then licked the sticky sweetness off his mouth after.
It was the little things that drove him crazy, the way the syrup stuck to his skin, how she adjusted her grip on his shoulders to steady herself while she rode him. Nash couldn’t keep his hands off her, grabbing her tits, squeezing them strongly, watching her nipples between those sensual areolas getting hard.
"Mmm, yeah, touch ’em," she sighed, arching into his hands. "Missed these, didn’t you? Bet you thought about ’em every night while you were off playing hero."
He didn’t even bother denying it, just groaned when she lifted herself almost all the way off his dick, then slamd back down with a wet slap, her ass jiggling against his thighs.
Zayela moaned, head tipping back.
"Fuck, Nash... you stretch so good." She reached behind herself, spread her cheeks wider, forcing him deeper. "Feel that? That’s your fat dick hitting my deepest spot. Right there..."
Nash lost it. He grabbed her hips and slamd her down hard enough to make the bed creak.
"Then stop teasing and ride for real," he growled, taking over, driving up into her with rough, devastating thrusts.
She gasped, nails raking down his chest as he fucked her stupid.
"Shit—yes—like that—!" Her voice cracked when he hit that spot inside her that made her legs shake.
The food tray got knocked aside, forgotten, as Zayela braced herself on his shoulders and rode him hard, her tits bouncing wildly. Sweat made their skin stick where their bodies t, the sll of sex and syrup mixing in the air.
Nash was panting, his dick throbbing inside her, her tight heat dragging him closer to the edge.
"Zay—I’m gonna cum—"
She clenched around him on purpose, her eyes sharp.
"Not yet," she ordered, slowing to a torturous grind. "We got all day. Earn that load."
Nash groaned, head slamming back against the pillows as she laughed, rolling her hips in slow, dirty circles, milking him without letting him finish.
And the worst part? They still had to do the dishes afterward.
And speaking of the dishes, well... it was a total ss.
The kitchen slled like soone mixed dish soap with straight-up sex. That sharp lemon cleaner sll tangled with Zayela’s sweat, kinda musky, kinda sweet, as she bent over the sink, her big hips swaying slowly every ti she pushed back against Nash’s cock.
Water splashed everywhere, sloshing over plates she wasn’t even scrubbing, her soapy fingers slipping on the edge of a bowl as Nash grabbed her waist and yanked her back onto him.
The sound was gross and wet—schlick—as he shoved all the way inside her, his balls pressed tight against her skin.
"Missed a spot," Nash mumbled against her shoulder, tongue darting out to lick a trail of soapy water running down her spine. His hands slid up her sides, rough palms squeezing her heavy tits, thumbs rubbing her hard nipples while she shivered and clenched around him.
The apron straps dug into her shoulders where he’d tied them way too tight earlier, the fabric riding up over her fat ass, now all shiny with the oil he’d poured there, his fingerprints still sared into the slick ss.
Zayela laughed, breathless, shoving a soapy plate aside with her hip.
"Bullshit," she gasped, arching when he bit her shoulder. "You’re just—ah!—using like a fucking toy while I clean."
Her tits bounced under his hands, oil streaking down her stomach in sticky lines.
"Damn right," Nash growled, pulling almost all the way out just to slam back in—plap—the sound echoing off the tiles as her knees wobbled. "Shouldn’t have tied yourself to a monster."
His voice was ragged, rough, he’d been hard for hours, his cock aching, her pussy squeezing him in little greedy pulses like it didn’t wanna let go.
She moaned, loud, when he hit that spot deep inside her that made her legs shake, fingers scrambling against the sink.
"F-fuck—Nash—the neighbors’ll hear—"
"Shoulda thought of that before you made the rules," he grunted, pounding into her with every word, his balls slapping against her soaked thighs, the sink rattling like it might break.
Dishes clattered as Zayela’s arms gave out, her chest squishing against the counter, ass jutting back so he could go even deeper. The apron rode up completely now, useless against the slick curve of her oiled-up cheeks, every smack leaving redder marks.
Between gasps, Zayela fumbled blindly for a half-eaten tomato on the cutting board, biting into it with a shaky grin.
"C’re," she panted, holding it out over her shoulder, juice dripping down her wrist.
Nash groaned but leaned in, biting the other side, their lips brushing as they ate toward the middle, before kissing ssy and deep.
He could taste everything, her skin, salty from sweat, the soap on her hands, even the leftover syrup from breakfast, all mixed together while her hips rolled slowly against him, taking him in lazy circles that made his toes curl.
"Laundry next," she whispered against his mouth, nipping his lip. "Gotta fold your jerseys... unless you wanna co on them instead."
He growled, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"You’re evil."
Zayela’s laugh turned into a whimper when he lifted her clean off the counter, her legs locking around his waist as he carried her toward the laundry room, her pussy sucking him in tighter with every step. The oil made her skin slide against his, her tits bouncing, leaving shiny streaks on his chest where they rubbed together.
By the ti they reached the dryer, Nash’s thighs were shaking, from holding her up or the way she kept clenching around him, he wasn’t sure. She reached behind herself, pulling out a warm towel, draping it over his shoulders while her hips moved in slow, teasing circles.
"Gotta stay hydrated," she teased, pouring a glass of water, only to spill half down her chest when Nash thrust up hard, her gasp sending the rest splashing across the floor.
He licked the droplets off her collarbone, hands kneading her slick tits, her nipples hard under his fingers.
"You’re so ssy."
Zayela arched into him, breath hitching.
"And you love it."
Then the doorbell rang.
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