A Writer in Wrestling Ch.14 {Patreon Exlusive} Asia & Oceania Tour [New Zealand] - Toni Storm (WWE) (Patreon)

A Writer in Wrestling

Chapter 14 - Asia & Oceania Tour [New Zealand] - Toni Storm

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The first night in New Zealand hit like a live wire. The SM Arena in Auckland was packed wall-to-wall, the air thick with the electric buzz of a hometown crowd that had waited years for this kind of energy. Red, white, and blue flags waved in chaotic rhythm from the upper decks. Chants of “DA-KO-TA! DA-KO-TA!” rolled through the building in waves, layered over the deeper, guttural roar of “RHEA! RHEA!” every time the big screens flashed the Nightmare’s face. The smell of hot dogs, spilled beer, and arena sweat hung heavy under the lights. This wasn’t just another house show stop. This was Dakota Kai’s house, and the fans were ready to burn the place down for her.

The main event tag team match had the entire arena on its feet before the bell even rang. Dakota Kai and Rhea Ripley stood in one corner, the contrast between them sharp and electric—Dakota’s lean, explosive speed and technical precision against Rhea’s raw, brutal power. Across the ring, Nia Jax loomed like a wrecking ball in black and gold, her massive frame already glistening under the lights, while Chelsea Green posed and preened in her signature green and black gear, tossing her hair and soaking in the boos like they were applause.

The bell clanged and the crowd exploded.

Nia Jax wasted no time. She charged straight at Dakota like a freight train, using every inch of her size advantage. A heavy forearm smashed across Dakota’s chest, the impact echoing like a gunshot. Dakota staggered back into the ropes, but Nia followed immediately, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her into a brutal short-arm clothesline that sent the smaller woman flipping. The ring shook. Nia roared, beating her chest, feeding off the heat from the crowd.

“Stay down, little girl!” Nia barked, voice carrying over the noise. “This is my ring tonight!”

Chelsea Green tagged herself in with a theatrical slap, strutting around the ring like she owned it. She hit a flashy spinning heel kick that caught Dakota on the jaw, then followed with a quick snapmare and a running knee drop. “That’s how you do it, sweetie!” Chelsea crowed, blowing a kiss to the jeering crowd. “Class is in session!”

Dakota fired back with pure fire. She ducked a wild swing from Chelsea, popped up behind her, and unloaded a blistering series of stiff kicks to the thigh and ribs—thud-thud-thud—each one cracking loud enough to make the front row wince. The crowd popped huge. Dakota’s face was pure intensity, sweat already flying off her as she built momentum. She hit the ropes, came back with a picture-perfect spinning heel kick that caught Chelsea square in the jaw and dropped her like a stone.

The arena roared.

Dakota scrambled to her corner, hand outstretched. “Rhea! Tag me in—come on!”

Rhea Ripley exploded off the apron like a storm breaking. She tagged in with a thunderous slap that echoed through the building. The crowd lost its mind. Rhea stormed across the ring, heavy tits bouncing hard inside the tight black leather-style top that clung to her sweat-slicked skin like a second layer. The material stretched obscenely over her full chest with every powerful stride, the outline of her pierced nipples pressing visibly against the damp leather. Her thick, powerful thighs flexed and powered every step, the black shorts riding high and hugging the round, heavy curve of her ass so tightly the seam disappeared between her cheeks. Sweat glistened on her carved abs and the spiderweb tattoo crawling up her neck.

She locked up with Nia Jax in the center of the ring, the two big women colliding like titans. The crowd chanted “RHEA! RHEA!” in a deafening wave. Nia tried to use her size, shoving hard, but Rhea met her with raw power, muscles straining, veins standing out on her arms. They traded stiff forearm shots—CRACK-CRACK-CRACK—each one snapping loud, the sound of flesh meeting flesh making the front rows flinch. Rhea’s face twisted with effort and dominance, teeth bared, eyes fierce and burning.

She got the upper hand, whipping Nia into the corner with a violent Irish whip. The bigger woman hit the turnbuckles hard. Rhea unloaded—stiff forearm after stiff forearm, the leather of her top creaking with every explosive movement. The smacks echoed like gunshots. Nia tried to fight back, swinging wild, but Rhea ducked under it and exploded upward with a brutal clothesline that caught Nia flush across the chest. The impact sent the powerhouse flipping over the top rope and crashing hard to the floor outside. The entire ring shook from the force.

Rhea’s round, heavy ass rippled visibly with the follow-through, the tight leather shorts clinging to every curve, the firm-yet-soft flesh jiggling and settling as she turned. Sweat ran in shiny rivulets down the deep curve of her spine and between the powerful globes of her ass. The crowd went feral.

Chelsea Green tried to capitalize, charging in from the apron with a high-risk crossbody. Rhea caught her in mid-air like she weighed nothing. The crowd popped huge. Rhea locked in a crushing headscissor, those thick, powerful thighs flexing and bulging as she squeezed with brutal, unrelenting pressure. Chelsea’s face turned red, legs kicking uselessly. Rhea’s expression was pure Nightmare—mouth open in a roar, teeth bared, eyes wild with dominance as she poured on the pressure, the muscles in her thighs standing out in sharp relief.

“RHEA! RHEA! RHEA!” the New Zealand crowd chanted, shaking the rafters.

Rhea finally released the hold, popping up with a primal roar that sent chills through the building. She followed immediately with a devastating big boot that caught Chelsea flush in the face and sent her staggering across the ring like a drunk. The impact was sickeningly loud.

Dakota tagged herself back in, the two women working in perfect sync like they’d been teaming for years. Dakota hit the ropes and came flying with a picture-perfect hurricanrana on Chelsea, flipping her violently. The crowd exploded. Rhea followed right behind with a running senton that crashed down across both opponents like a meteor, the impact shaking the entire ring and leaving both Nia and Chelsea down in a heap.

The arena was pure chaos—thousands of voices screaming, phones waving, the air electric.

Rhea and Dakota stood tall in the center of the ring, chests heaving, sweat pouring down their bodies in sheets. Rhea’s heavy tits rose and fell with every deep, ragged breath, the leather top soaked through and clinging transparently in places, outlining every curve. Her thick thighs were still flexed and pumped from the effort, glistening under the lights. Dakota’s lean, athletic frame was equally drenched, hair wild, eyes blazing with hometown fire. They raised their arms together, feeding off the roar of the crowd.

The New Zealand fans gave them a hero’s reception—deafening, sustained, the kind of reaction that rattled the building. Dakota pointed out to the crowd, soaking in the love from her people. Rhea stood beside her like a war goddess, that signature intensity burning on her face, eyes scanning the sea of fans with raw satisfaction.

They hit their finishing combination clean—Dakota’s running knee setting it up, Rhea following with a brutal Riptide that planted Chelsea in the center of the ring. Dakota dove on the cover. The referee slid in.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rang and the arena detonated.

Rhea and Dakota had won the main event. The New Zealand crowd was losing its collective mind—chants of “DA-KO-TA! RHEA!” blending into one massive, roaring wave that shook the rafters. Confetti cannons fired from the stage. Dakota dropped to her knees in the center of the ring, tears in her eyes as she looked out at her people. Rhea stood over her, one hand raised high, sweat dripping from her chin onto her soaked leather top, thick thighs planted wide, round ass still faintly rippling from the final explosive movements. The two women embraced in the middle of the ring as the crowd chanted their names like war cries.

The first night in New Zealand had delivered exactly what it promised—pure electricity, hometown pride, and two women who had just stolen the show.

Backstage after the match, the adrenaline was still surging through the corridors like a live current. The locker room area buzzed with noise: crew members shouting congratulations, talent clapping each other on the back, the distant roar of the crowd still filtering through the walls as they chanted for more. Sweat-soaked bodies moved in every direction, the air thick with the mingled scents of exertion, rubber mats, and arena concession grease. But Rhea Ripley slipped away from it all like a shadow, ignoring the hands reaching out to slap her shoulder or the voices calling her name. Her gear was utterly soaked through, the tight black leather-style top clinging like wet paint to every curve of her powerful frame. Dark patches spread across her heavy tits, the material molded so tightly that the hard, pierced outline of her nipples pressed visibly against it with every deep, ragged breath. Her leather shorts rode high on her thick, sweat-glistened thighs, the fabric dark and damp where it hugged the heavy, round swell of her ass. Her black hair was a wild, messy tangle, strands plastered to her flushed cheeks and the spiderweb tattoo crawling up her neck. She looked every inch the Nightmare—raw, dominant, and still vibrating with post-match fire.

She spotted Piers near a quieter hallway close to the production area, half-hidden by stacked equipment cases. Without a single wasted word, Rhea closed the distance in three powerful strides. Her strong, calloused hand—still warm and slightly sticky from the ring ropes—grabbed his firmly. She yanked him hard, pulling him into the semi-private alcove behind the cases and slamming his back against the cool concrete wall with her body. The impact made the stacked gear rattle faintly.

“You saw that, right?” Rhea growled, her thick Aussie accent low and rough, still breathing hard from the match. Her chest heaved, heavy tits pressing firmly into him with every inhale, the damp leather creaking softly. Her powerful thighs pinned his legs in place, the dense muscle flexing against him as she crowded him completely. Sweat rolled down the side of her neck, tracing a shiny path between her collarbones before disappearing into the deep valley of her cleavage. “That win felt fucking incredible. The crowd was losing their minds for us out there. Dakota and I clicked like we’d been teaming for years—tags crisp, moves hitting perfect. Felt like the old days, but better. Stronger.”

She grinned, eyes dark with leftover adrenaline and a much hungrier edge. The faint scent of her post-match sweat—clean, salty, mixed with the leather of her gear—filled the small space between them. “All because of the way you’ve been writing me lately. Those main event segments, the promos that actually let me cut loose, that real push instead of midcard scraps… I owe you for it, Piers. Big fucking time.”

Her hand slid down his front without hesitation, palming the growing bulge in his shorts. She squeezed firmly, feeling him twitch and thicken under her grip. A low, satisfied rumble escaped her throat.

Without waiting for a reply, Rhea dropped to her knees right there on the hard concrete floor. The position put her at perfect eye level with his crotch. She looked up at him with raw, hungry eyes, lips already parted. “Let me thank you properly. Right now. I’ve been thinking about this fat cock the whole damn match—every time I hit a clothesline, every time my thighs squeezed someone’s head, I was imagining choking on you backstage like this.”

Rhea reached up with both strong hands and yanked his shorts and underwear down in one rough motion. His thick, heavy cock sprang free, already swelling fast from the way she’d manhandled him against the wall. It was absurdly fat—a dense, veined cylinder of flesh that pulsed with heat. Rhea’s eyes darkened with lust as she wrapped both hands around the heavy girth. Her fingers didn’t quite meet. She started double-stroking him immediately, fast and firm, her strong palms twisting smoothly along the dense, veined shaft in opposite directions.

“Still so fucking fat,” she murmured, voice husky and reverent. She leaned in, dragging her warm, wet tongue slowly across the swollen head, swirling around the sensitive ridge and lapping up the bead of pre-cum that had already formed. “I love how thick this thing is. Makes my jaw ache every single time I take it. Heavy balls too…” She dipped lower, nuzzling her face against his sack, inhaling deeply before licking them with long, sloppy strokes. “I can feel them tightening up already, full and ready for me.”

She didn’t waste another second. Rhea grabbed his hands and placed them firmly on either side of her head, guiding him. “Pin my arms up. Use my throat like you own it. I want it rough tonight—I earned it out there.”

Piers gripped her wrists tightly, pinning them above her head against the concrete wall. Rhea’s back pressed flush to the cool surface, her powerful body arched and presented. He pushed forward, sliding his thick cock into her waiting mouth. Her lips stretched wide around the fat girth, cheeks hollowing instantly as she took the head and then several more thick inches. The swollen tip nudged the back of her throat, making her gag softly.

“Fuck, Rhea,” he groaned, the sound low and strained. He started thrusting deeper, hips snapping forward with controlled power. Her head smacked lightly against the wall with every push—a dull, rhythmic thud that mixed with the wet, obscene gagging noises coming from her throat. Spit dripped from her chin immediately, running in thick, shiny strands down onto her heavy tits and soaking the already damp leather top even further. The fabric turned sheer in places, clinging transparently to her full, soft mounds and making her hard, pierced nipples stand out obscenely.

Rhea’s eyes watered but she kept them locked on his the entire time, moaning around his thick shaft as he fucked her face. Her powerful thighs flexed and shifted on the concrete, the dense muscle rippling under sweat-slick skin. Her round, heavy ass rested on her heels, the leather shorts stretched tight across the firm globes. Every thrust made her body jolt slightly, her heavy tits jiggling inside the soaked top.

Piers held her wrists pinned tight above her head, hips snapping forward harder now. The wet, sloppy sounds of his thick cock sliding in and out of her throat filled the cramped alcove—loud gluck-gluck-gluck—mixed with her muffled, eager moans and the occasional wet gag. Spit bubbled at the corners of her stretched lips and ran down her neck in messy rivulets. “You’re such a filthy girl,” he grunted, voice low and rough with arousal. “Taking my cock down your throat right after your big main event win. The crowd was chanting your name out there—‘Rhea! Rhea!’—while you’re back here choking on me like a desperate little slut. Does that turn you on? Knowing you just pinned those bitches in front of thousands and now you’re on your knees for the writer who books you?”

Rhea gagged hard around him but pushed forward anyway, her nose pressing closer to his pelvis as she took him even deeper. Her throat fluttered and squeezed rhythmically around the fat head, the powerful muscles working visibly along her neck. Her face was a beautiful, wrecked mess—spit running down her chin in shiny trails, eyes glassy and watering, cheeks flushed a deep, aroused red. She loved every second of it, moaning louder around his girth, the vibrations shooting straight through his shaft and making his balls tighten.

Her heavy tits jiggled and bounced with every thrust of his hips, the soft, full weight swaying heavily as more spit dripped onto them. The leather top was now completely soaked, dark and translucent, her pierced nipples stiff and begging for attention through the material.

She pulled back just enough to gasp for air, thick strings of spit connecting her swollen, shiny lips to his throbbing cock. A long, messy strand dangled from her lower lip before breaking and landing on her tits. “I fucking love it,” she rasped, her voice already hoarse and wrecked from the abuse. “Love feeling you use my throat after I just pinned those bitches in front of thousands of people. The way the crowd chanted my name while I was out there dominating… and now here I am, gagging on the fat cock that gets me those wins. Buddy would lose his fucking mind if he knew. His tough girlfriend, the Nightmare, on her knees backstage with her face getting fucked while her gear is still sweaty from the ring. He thinks I’m out here celebrating the win with the girls…”

She dove back down immediately, taking him to the hilt again. Her throat convulsed around his girth as she held him deep, eyes locked on his the whole time, tears spilling from the corners but never breaking contact. The wet, obscene noises grew even louder—sloppy gags, gurgling sounds, the occasional dull smack of the back of her head against the concrete wall. Spit poured from her mouth in thick streams now, soaking her tits completely and dripping onto the floor between her thick, powerful thighs in messy puddles. The concrete was already slick beneath her knees.

“That’s it… take every fucking inch,” Piers groaned, hips snapping faster, using her throat like a tight, wet sleeve. “You’re such a greedy throat slut. Swallowing my cock right here where anyone could walk by and see the big bad Nightmare getting her face fucked like a desperate office whore. After main-eventing and stealing the show, you’re still not satisfied until you’ve got my thick load down your throat.”

Rhea moaned loudly around him, the deep vibration shooting straight through his shaft and making his thighs tense. She pushed herself even further, nose brushing against his pelvis as she deepthroated him completely, her powerful body trembling with the effort. Her face was wrecked in the hottest way—mascara starting to run in dark streaks down her flushed cheeks, lips stretched obscenely wide around his girth, drool and spit everywhere, coating her chin, neck, and heaving tits. She gagged again but held him there, throat squeezing rhythmically like she was trying to milk him dry, her tongue working frantically against the underside of his shaft.

The risk only made it hotter. Distant voices and footsteps echoed from the main hallway—crew members moving gear, talent laughing about the match—but Rhea didn’t pull off. If anything, the possibility of being caught made her suck harder, her head bobbing as much as his pinning grip allowed, wet gluck-gluck-gluck sounds filling the alcove.

Piers couldn’t hold back any longer. His balls tightened, drawing up close and heavy against his body as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. Every muscle in his core clenched. “Fuck, Rhea—” he groaned, voice raw and strained. He buried himself as deep as possible, hips stuttering forward in short, desperate thrusts that forced the fat head of his cock right against the back of her convulsing throat.

Thick, hot ropes of cum pulsed straight down her throat in powerful, rhythmic spurts. Rhea swallowed greedily, her powerful throat working visibly around the dense girth with tight, wet contractions that milked every single drop from him. The muscles rippled and squeezed along his shaft like a velvet fist, pulling and sucking him deeper even as he unloaded. She didn’t spill a single drop—her eyes still locked fiercely on his the entire time, watering but burning with filthy satisfaction. Soft, contented moans vibrated around his pulsing cock as she took it all like the filthy, grateful slut she was in that moment, her body trembling from the effort of deepthroating him so completely while still fresh off her main event victory.

The wet, obscene sounds of her swallowing filled the cramped alcove—audible gulps mixed with the faint, lingering gluck of her throat adjusting around his thickness. Spit and a few stray beads of cum mixed at the corners of her stretched lips before she swallowed them down too. Her heavy tits heaved with each labored breath through her nose, the soaked leather top clinging transparently to the soft, full mounds, pierced nipples stiff and prominent. Sweat and drool glistened on her flushed skin, dripping down her neck and between her cleavage in shiny trails.

When he finally pulled out with a wet pop, Rhea gasped sharply for air, chest heaving. A thin, glistening string of spit still connected her swollen lower lip to the glistening head of his cock, stretching obscenely before it finally broke and landed on her chin. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, gathering the messy mix of spit and cum, then licked her fingers clean slowly and deliberately, savoring the taste with a low, throaty hum. Her tongue dragged across her palm and between her fingers, collecting every drop like it was the finest meal she’d had all night.

“Mmm… tastes so fucking good after a win,” she rasped, her voice completely hoarse and wrecked from the brutal throat fucking. She stayed on her knees for a long moment, looking up at him with a filthy, satisfied grin. Spit and a little cum still glistened on her chin and the corners of her mouth, dripping slowly onto her heavy tits. Her makeup was smeared—mascara running in faint dark streaks down her flushed cheeks—giving her that perfectly debauched, post-match glow. “God, I love how you fill my throat. Feels like I earned every drop out there tonight.”

Rhea reached up with one strong hand, grabbing his still-heavy cock. It was slick with her spit, veins standing out prominently, the fat head flushed dark. She slapped it against her own cheek a couple of times—smack, smack—the wet, meaty sounds echoing softly in the alcove. Then she dragged the sensitive underside across her tongue, licking it clean with long, worshipful strokes.

“Hey…” she continued, voice low and teasing, still gently stroking him as she looked up. “I saw Toni Storm lingering around earlier. That fat ass of hers was sticking out, practically begging for attention. You should give that monster cock to her. Convince her to come back to WWE. She’d be stupid to say no once she feels it stretching her out—really stretching her. That juicy, thick ass needs a proper pounding.”

Rhea reached up, grabbing his still-heavy cock and slapping it against her own cheek a couple more times for emphasis, then across her tongue again. The wet slap-slap sounds were filthy in the quiet space. “Give her this. Stuff that fat ass of hers. She’ll come crawling back if you do. I know that look she had—nostalgic, a little hungry. She misses it. Misses feeling like a star. And this cock… this thick fucking cock would remind her real quick.”

She leaned in and gave the head one last slow, lingering lick, swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge before finally releasing him. Rhea wiped her mouth again with the back of her hand, then pushed herself up to her feet on slightly shaky but powerful legs. Her thick thighs flexed as she stood, the leather shorts still damp and riding high on her ass. She gave him a wicked, knowing smirk. “Go find her. She’s probably near gorilla thinking about the old days. Don’t keep Toni waiting.”

Piers nodded, tucking himself away with a satisfied exhale. His cock was still half-hard, twitching at the thought. “I’ll go see her. Should be easy to spot with that ass of hers.”

He headed back toward the gorilla position, the arena still buzzing from the main event. The energy backstage was electric—crew members rushing past with cases, talent congratulating each other on the big win, the distant roar of the crowd still echoing through the hallways. Piers moved with purpose, heart still pounding from Rhea’s intense throat session.

Toni Storm was standing near the exit of gorilla, staring out toward the ramp and the now-dark ring. She looked lost in thought, that signature confidence mixed with something deeper—nostalgia, maybe a hint of longing for the bright lights and the roar she once commanded so effortlessly. Her outfit hugged her body like it was painted on, the fabric stretched tight across her full chest and especially that famous, legendary fat ass that strained against the material. It was round, thick, and impossibly juicy—soft yet firm from years of training, the kind of ass that drew every eye in any room and jiggled hypnotically with the slightest movement. The way it filled out her gear was obscene, the cheeks full and heavy, begging to be grabbed, slapped, and spread.

Piers walked up behind her quietly, the concrete floor muffling his steps. Without warning, he gave that ass a massive, open-palmed smack. The sound cracked loud—CRACK—echoing slightly in the semi-private area near the gorilla exit. Toni’s body jolted forward slightly from the impact, but she immediately pushed back, grinding that thick, juicy ass right against his crotch with a needy roll of her hips.

“Been a while since I felt something like this,” she said, voice low and breathy, still backing up against him. She rolled her hips again in a slow, deliberate circle, pressing the soft, heavy cheeks firmly against the growing bulge in his pants. The fabric of her outfit had already started to ride up from the motion, letting more skin-on-skin contact happen. “That monstrous thing… I know exactly who’s behind me. That thick fucking cock that ruins girls for anyone else.”

Piers slapped her ass again, harder this time, his palm connecting with a sharp CRACK that made the heavy cheek ripple visibly under his hand. The soft, round flesh jiggled and bounced from the impact, a faint pink flush already blooming on her tan skin. “You could experience this again and again if you come back,” he said, voice low and commanding, squeezing the warm, heavy globe in his grip. “We could make it worth your while. Real plans. Real push. No more sitting on the sidelines.”

Toni moaned softly, the sound throaty and genuine. She kept grinding back on him, her fat ass cheeks spreading slightly against his crotch as she worked her hips in filthy, teasing circles. The way her cheeks moved was hypnotic—soft and plush but with that perfect underlying firmness, spreading and clapping lightly with every roll. “I didn’t really get along with a lot of the other women… or some of the higher-ups last time. It got complicated. Politics, egos, all that bullshit.” She pushed back harder, twerking her ass in short, dirty bursts that made the heavy flesh jiggle and ripple against him. “But if you’ve got plans for me… and if this fat cock is part of the deal… I might think about it. Most importantly, I need my ass stuffed constantly. I need this monster stretching me out whenever I want it—deep, hard, making me feel full like no one else can.”

Piers slapped her ass again, the loud crack echoing in the space. He watched the heavy cheek ripple beautifully under his palm, the pink handprint deepening. “You could experience this again and again if you come back. We could make it worth your while. Real worth your while. Proper plans, good segments, the kind of push you deserve. No more bullshit politics holding you back. You’d be a star again—Timeless Toni, but with the booking to match that body.”

Toni let out a shaky, needy breath, pushing that ass back even harder. She twerked it in short, dirty bursts that made the soft, heavy flesh jiggle and clap against his bulge. The hypnotic motion had her cheeks spreading and bouncing, the fabric of her outfit now fully ridden up so skin pressed directly against the front of his pants. “Fuck… keep talking like that and I might actually consider it,” she panted, voice husky with growing arousal. “You feel so thick already. I can feel it throbbing against my ass through your pants—all hot and heavy and ready. God, it’s been too long since I had something this fat splitting me open.”

She reached back with one hand, grabbing his hip and pulling him closer while her ass kept rolling and grinding in those filthy circles. The heavy cheeks molded and pressed around the thick bulge, giving him more and more of that juicy, legendary ass to feel. The soft flesh spilled between his fingers when he grabbed a handful, warm and yielding yet firm enough to bounce back with every teasing twerk.

Piers groaned deeply, one hand sliding around to grab a handful of her heavy tit through her top. The soft, full weight filled his palm instantly, warm and heavy, the nipple already stiff and hard against his fingers. He squeezed firmly, kneading the soft mound as he spoke. “Then let me remind you what you’d be coming back to.”

He yanked her shorts down just enough to free her ass completely. The heavy cheeks spilled out, soft and round and already a little pink from the smacks, jiggling enticingly with the sudden freedom. His thick cock sprang free and slapped right between them with a heavy thwack. Toni moaned instantly, louder this time, pushing back so the fat head nestled hot and heavy between her cheeks. The swollen tip slid along her already wet folds, coating itself in her slickness.

“Right here?” she whispered, voice husky and needy, still grinding back on him. She twerked her ass again, the soft flesh rippling and clapping lightly against his thick shaft, the movement making her cheeks bounce and jiggle hypnotically. “Fuck… yes. Stuff it in me. I don’t care who might walk by. Just give me that thick cock right now. Stretch this fat ass—remind me why I should come back.”

Piers rubbed the thick head along her already wet pussy, coating himself thoroughly in her slick arousal. The fat, swollen tip slid slowly up and down her swollen folds, spreading her wetness over every veined inch of his massive girth. Toni whimpered desperately, pushing her thick ass back against him, her heavy cheeks spreading wider around the intrusion as she tried to capture him. The soft, plush flesh jiggled and molded around his cock with every needy roll of her hips. The scent of her arousal—tangy, sweet, and heady—mixed with the faint arena smells of sweat, rubber, and distant popcorn, filling the semi-private space near gorilla.

Then he pushed forward.

Toni’s ass spread around his girth as he sank in deep, the heavy cheeks rippling and jiggling beautifully with the slow, stretching invasion. Inch after thick inch disappeared between those legendary globes until he bottomed out, his hips flush against her soft, warm flesh.

She moaned loud, head falling forward as her pussy stretched wide around his massive thickness. “Fuuuck… so thick. It’s splitting me open already. God, I missed this fat cock.” Her voice was breathy and broken, the words dripping with raw need. “No one else fills me like this. No one stretches my pussy this wide. Fuck… I can feel every vein, every inch throbbing inside me.”

He fucked her steady from behind, hands gripping her wide hips, fingers digging deep into the soft give above her powerful ass. Each thrust sent her thick, juicy cheeks jiggling and rippling hypnotically, the heavy flesh bouncing back against his pelvis with loud, meaty smacks. Toni’s heavy tits swayed beneath her, the top barely containing them as they bounced heavily with every powerful impact. She reached back with one hand and spread one fat cheek wider, moaning shamelessly as he went even deeper. “Harder… pound that pussy. I want to feel it tomorrow when I’m walking around thinking about coming back. I want to feel you every time I move, every time I sit down, every time I take a bump in the ring. Remind me why I should sign those papers.”

Her face twisted in pleasure—mouth open in a constant stream of moans, eyes half-lidded and glassy, cheeks flushed dark red as he railed her. Sweat already beaded on her golden skin, trickling down her spine and into the deep curve where her thick ass met her back. The scent of her arousal grew thicker in the air, mixing with the faint arena smells around them and the musk of their bodies. The risk only heightened everything—the distant voices of crew members, the possibility of someone rounding the corner and seeing Toni Storm bent over with her fat ass getting pounded near gorilla.

She came fast, thighs shaking violently, her pussy clamping down around his thick cock like a velvet vice as she moaned brokenly. “Shit—cumming already! Your cock feels too good. Don’t stop—keep fucking me just like that. Pound me through it—yes, fuck!”

Her walls fluttered and pulsed rhythmically, gushing fresh wetness around his shaft that dripped down her thick thighs. Piers didn’t slow down for a second, powering through her orgasm with deep, relentless thrusts that made her heavy ass cheeks ripple and clap against him.

Piers didn’t slow down. He pulled out with a wet, obscene schlick, spun her around, and sat on a nearby sturdy equipment case, his thick cock standing upright and glistening with her cum. He pulled her on top facing him. Toni straddled him eagerly, lining up the fat head with her dripping pussy and sinking down onto his cock with a long, satisfied groan. “So fucking deep like this,” she panted, bottoming out with her fat ass resting heavily on his lap. She started to bounce immediately, her powerful thighs flexing as she rode him. Her ass slapped down onto his lap with every drop, the heavy cheeks rippling and jiggling wildly, spreading wide around his girth on every descent.

Piers grabbed two big handfuls of that legendary ass, spreading her open as she rode him, watching his thick cock disappear between those plush cheeks over and over. The wet, filthy sounds of her pussy taking him filled the space—loud, rhythmic smacks mixed with her desperate moans. “Ride it just like that,” he grunted, slapping one heavy cheek hard. The impact made the soft flesh ripple beautifully. Toni moaned louder, bouncing faster, her heavy tits swaying heavily right in his face.

He buried his face between them, sucking hard on one stiff nipple while mauling the other with his hand, squeezing the soft, full flesh as it spilled between his fingers. “These tits… this fat ass… you were made for this. Built to take a pounding and still look like a star.”

“Keep sucking them,” Toni gasped, grinding down harder, rolling her hips in filthy circles that made her clit rub against his pelvis. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good while I ride this monster. Suck harder—bite them if you want. I need this all the time if I come back. Stuff my holes whenever you want. I’ll be your dirty little secret on the road—your personal fat-assed fucktoy in every city.” She came again like that, grinding down deep and shaking, her pussy fluttering and gushing around him as she soaked his balls. “Yes—another one! Fill me up. I want your cum leaking out of me while I’m thinking about signing those papers. While I’m imagining bending over for you every night after the show.”

Piers groaned and pumped up into her, flooding her pussy with the first thick load. Hot ropes shot deep inside her as she kept riding, her walls milking every drop with greedy contractions. When she finally lifted off on shaky legs, cum dripped down her thick thighs in heavy, creamy trails, running down the soft, jiggling flesh.

Toni dropped to her knees right there without hesitation, taking his messy cock into her mouth and sucking him clean. “Mmm… my pussy and your cum taste so fucking good together,” she moaned around him, her voice muffled but eager. She licked every inch with long, devoted strokes, swirling her tongue around the head and along the veined shaft, savoring the filthy mix. Her heavy tits rested on his thighs as she worked, the soft weight pressing warmly against him.

They weren’t done. Toni stood on still-trembling legs, turned, and braced her hands on the wall, pushing that ass back toward him again. The heavy cheeks spread invitingly, still pink from the earlier slaps and glistening with a mix of her juices and his cum. Piers slid back into her cum-slick pussy, fucking her deep while the distant arena noise—voices, gear being moved, the faint echo of the crowd—reminded them how risky it was. He pulled her hair firmly, arching her back as he pounded her. Toni’s face was lost in pleasure—mouth open in constant moans, eyes rolling back, cheeks flushed as she took every deep thrust. “Pull it harder… fuck me like you own this fat ass. I need it. Own me like this and I’ll come back—I’ll let you book me however you want.”

She came again, thighs trembling hard, pussy gushing around him in fresh waves. Piers pulled out and sat back down on the case, pulling her on top facing away once more but this time guiding her ass down onto his cock. Toni took him in her tight ass with a long, broken moan. “Fuuuck… stretching my ass so wide. It burns so good—fuck, you’re so thick back there.” She bounced on him, her ass rippling and slapping down loudly, cheeks spreading wide around his girth with every descent. The heavy flesh jiggled hypnotically, soft and plush yet firm enough to bounce back against him.

Piers reached around and rubbed her swollen clit in firm circles while mauling one heavy tit, pinching the stiff nipple hard between his fingers. “This ass feels unreal,” he groaned, voice thick with pleasure. “Come back and it’s yours whenever you want. I’ll stuff it full every night if you need it—deep, hard, making you leak my cum during every match.”

Toni came hard from the double sensation, her asshole clenching rhythmically around him as she shook and moaned. “Yes—fill my ass. Give me another load. Pump it deep so I feel it when I walk out of here.” Piers buried himself to the hilt and unloaded, pumping thick ropes into her ass while she ground back greedily, milking him for every drop.

They caught their breath for a moment, Toni still sitting on his lap, cum leaking from both her well-fucked holes down her thick thighs in warm, sticky trails. She turned her head, kissing him messily—tongue sliding hot and deep against his. “You really know how to make a girl consider coming back,” she murmured against his lips, voice hoarse and satisfied. “Keep that monster ready for me and I’ll think about it seriously. My ass needs this regularly—needs to be stretched and filled like this after every show.”

Piers ran his hands over her body, squeezing her ass again, feeling the soft, cum-slick cheeks. “Deal. We’ll make it happen.”

The New Zealand crowd had loved the show, and word was already spreading—the women’s division was heating up. Piers knew the next few weeks of booking were going to be strong, especially with Toni potentially back in the mix.