Stoner Slob - Part 3

Vinny never liked the tenants in room 2B. They didn’t make a lot of noise, but the plumes of smoke erupting from their open bedroom window at all hours of the day made it clear what they were doing most of the time. That, and the stream of random “guests” who showed up at all hours made it clear they were dealing. Probably weed, but Vinny didn’t get to his age as a super without seeing plenty of other stuff in his time.

Smoking was prohibited in all rooms and public spaces, but if it was just the smoke, Vinny would have let it slide. He was known to spark a cigar every so often when the mood struck. But today it wasn’t just the smoke--it was the smell. It not only reeked of weed but also plenty of sex mixed in too.

Vinny couldn’t bear the thought of a couple of faggots smoking and fucking up his building. He wasn’t exactly an intimidating figure at barely 5’9’’ and maybe 120 pounds soaking wet, but he had a voice that carried and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

He started stomping up the stairs, hoping that his heavier-than-normal footsteps would somehow convince the queers in 2B to stop what they were doing and put on some clothes. Of course it didn’t--even from outside their door, the meaty slapping sounds of an overgrown ass meeting a plush pelvis easily drowned out Vinny’s work boots.

“Fuck these queers,” Vinny muttered, fishing out his keys to begin an unannounced unit inspection.

“Inspection!” Vinny called out as soon as he’d cracked open the door. Even with just a crack open, the smoke alone was almost overpowering. “Smoking is banned in this building! What the fuck is going on here?”

The door’s deadbolt was engaged, so Vinny raised his foot to kick down the door. He almost lost his footing as the smoke wafted into the hallway and filled his lungs. Vinny felt an immediate rush, like the smoke had somehow supercharged the adrenaline that was already coursing through his veins. Then he struck the door and the deadbolt burst off its chain and fell to the floor.

With the door now wide open, Vinny stepped inside and was struck by a tidal wave of sounds and odors. There was the loud “plap plap plap” of the two men fucking in the bedroom, but that was secondary to the overpowering smoke. It was so thick it was hard for Vinny to breathe, and he nearly collapsed but managed to steady himself on the kitchen counter.

But the smell… It was at once horrifying and intoxicating. Vinny had his fair share of tail back in the day, but this room was full of a musk that no woman could ever produce. His head was swimming, his gorge was rising, and yet despite it all, his member was also receiving an unexpected rush of blood.

“You fuckin’ faggots!” Vinny shouted, but the smoke muffled the sound of his voice so it seemed like he was yelling through pillows. “Quit yer fuckin’ and open some more windows!”

The slapping continued unabated--either those queers hadn’t heard him or hadn’t cared. Vinny swallowed his gorge as a wave of heat swept through his body. Rage, he thought, at having his authority undermined. He could take queers, could take stoners, could even take the stains and the garbage thrown about this hovel of sex and drugs, but he couldn’t take being ignored. Nobody ignored Vincent.

The superintendent didn’t even notice as the smoke curled around his body, invading him, turning him into the authority figure he believed himself to be. His pants were the first to go as powerful thighs erupted through slacks designed for a much smaller man. His shirt next, buttons flying across the room as a powerful barrel chest emerged. Two meaty slabs defined either side of his torso with a third bursting his belt as a growing belly gave Vincent the stature of a silverback gorilla. And just like a gorilla, Vincent knew there was a time to pound one’s chest and a time for action. Now was that time.

He stalked through the living room and down the hall, broad shoulders scraping the walls as his arms thickened up to shred what little remained of his former work clothes. For a moment, Vincent was surprised to find his leather gear underneath his garments--a leather chest harness perfectly accentuating his shelf of muscle and fat that made up his upper torso, leather straps straining to contain his biceps, and a leather thong that did nothing to hide the massive bulge that was begging to be unleashed.

But then he remembered he was here to teach these queers a lesson.

He didn’t kick down the bedroom door--he didn’t need to. There was no need for a display of violence. The heavy creek of floorboards straining under his bulk was enough to announce his presence.

Ray was on his front, titanic ass in the air as Greg stopped mid-thrust, several inches of his horse-like member connecting the two fat queers. Even through the smoke, Vincent could clearly see the look of shock on their faces as both heads turned to witness the surprising entrance of the imposing super.

“Your rent is due,” Vincent said calmly, but sternly, his baritone voice lending a deep gravitas to his arrival. “And I intend to collect.”

Vincent reached down and unclasped his leather thong, unleashing a cock that wasn’t quite as long as Greg’s, but just as thick and imposing as the superintendent’s body.

Still frozen, Greg and Ray just watched as Vincent lumbered behind Greg and gently pressed him until those exposed inches were buried as deep in Ray’s plush hole as they could go. The fat man moaned as Greg whimpered, realizing what the thick cock at his back entrance was demanding. Vincent then embraced Greg from behind and firmly pressed himself against the smaller stoner. He never changed the amount of pressure he applied--he simply tensed his cock so it lined up with Greg’s hole and pressed.

At first, Greg’s butt didn’t budge, but after nearly a minute he felt his resolve falter. That was all it took, and suddenly Vincent’s broad head pushed in, followed by an equally thick shaft. Just like Vincent’s entrance, it was a slow, inexorable advance that only ended with Vince’s groin pressed firmly against Greg’s ass.

Greg didn’t make a sound, but Vincent could tell by the rapid contractions around his cock and his trembling shoulders that the stoner was in considerable pain, so Vince just held him. He remained rock solid and just as motionless for several minutes, Greg’s trembling subsiding as the smaller man got used to bottoming for the big bear.

It took a few minutes more for the contractions around his cock to slow down. That’s when Vincent knew Greg was ready. He pulled back slowly, patiently, and then pressed in just as slow. This time, Greg gasped, and below him, his fat-assed boyfriend moaned as Greg’s big dick made its first move in quite some time. Vincent repeated this action a few more times, building Greg’s tolerance and setting a pace for the two of them to follow.

Soon, Vince grabbed Greg’s blubbery love handles in his strong paws and used them to alternate their motion, with Greg’s horsedick thrusting into Ray as Vince’s coke bottle was exiting Greg. The loud slapping that had so enraged Vincent only minutes ago suddenly took on a staccato pace as the three men fucked in unison.

Greg was first to blow. Already close from his marathon fuck of his obese boyfriend, the sudden appearance of their giant bear super forcefully massaging his prostate sent Greg over the edge. He shouted, clenched on Vince’s member, and shot deep into Ray’s capacious asshole.

Vincent never let up his pace even as began to spasm in orgasm. He rammed his cock into the chubby stoner with enough force to ensure Greg’s dick kept sliding in and out of the sloppy hole it had been ravishing for the past half-hour. When the spasms finally stopped, Vince grabbed the smaller man and threw him to the side, his massive cock leaving a trail of slime as he fell to the mattress.

In truth, Greg’s spasming hole had already gotten Vincent most of the way to his own peak, but Ray still needed his lesson. Without so much as a “by your leave,” he thrust his hammer all the way into the fat stoner’s asshole. Vincent knew that Greg had him beat on size, but nobody could beat him for power.

The slapping sounds of their lovemaking now turned to the meaty “thwacks” of a massive beast mercilessly pounding an even more massive ass. Vince grunted and growled, subduing his growing orgasm through sheer force of will. Even as sloppy seconds, Ray’s hole was as tight and accommodating as ever--the perfect hole to fuck as long as anyone could.

It was a battle of stamina--an unstoppable force versus an immovable object. The clap of asscheeks went on so long that Greg actually got up to re-light the bong for another toke, filling the room and every occupants’ lungs with yet more smoke.

This time, Ray broke first. The fat man moaned once, then twice, and then let out a loud protracted groan. Through the smoke, Vincent could smell Ray’s musk take on the unmistakable tang of fresh cum. His lesson had been taught.

Vince finally let himself release. He bellowed as he erupted, filling the fat man to capacity as both his own and Greg’s cum splattered over his groin. The bed was soaked in sweat and cum, but that was a problem for the tenants, not the super. So long as it didn’t drop through the ceiling, he didn’t care what these faggots did in their own home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow for your next installment,” Vince announced, slipping out of the fat man and lumbering over to Greg as he offered up his bong. Vince hadn’t smoked weed for decades until these two love birds started renting from him. Now he was a frequent visitor, although it was more for the sex than the weed. He mostly accepted the bong out of politeness.

But as the big bear inhaled he could feel Greg’s tongue start licking up and down his still-hard shaft, cleaning it of the cum that had so recently coated it. He exhaled, put the bong down, and then forced his cock down Greg’s throat. It looked like he still needed another lesson.