She loved to tease. Flaunting around guys, telling her girlfriends how she liked them big and strong. It was a fun little fantasy to push even if she had never been with a big guy before. Oh, she’d had sex, often, and enjoyed it, but all her stories were bunk. It was vanilla or something she had read in a novel or online. Nothing tangible. Nothing real.

She loved the attention it gave her though, savored it, made sure to talk a bit louder at parties about the men the size of mountains she had ridden. She would gossip, enjoying the gasps from some of her more conservative friends, the glances of some of the men overhearing her and eyeing her up and down. It was a game and she thought she was the master of it. Always at the center of attention.

She was with her friends one night at a bachelorette party, talking it up once again when a man heard her big talk and knew it for the fraud that it was. But he thought he would educate her and teach her to speak the truth, and so he danced with her, bought her friends drinks, laughed at her insipid jokes, and flattered her more than she deserved. One unseen drop in her drink made her sluggish, sloppy, and confused, and so, he separated her from her pack, bringing her not to her apartment, but to his house.

She protested a bit, of course. She had a cute, dumb, vacant expression on her face. The sudden change on it was priceless when he slapped her face against the wall, her cheek reddening, eyes watering. The look on it as he pressed her head against the door, tore off her skirt, ripped her blouse, and then tossed her to the ground. She whimpered, shaking, so confused, tangled in her torn clothes, one breast hanging out of her tiny bra, her thong not even trying to cover her sex. She tried to crawl away but her hand was caught up in her ripped blouse and she slumped hard against the floor.

Meanwhile, he stripped slowly, walking behind her, tossing off his shirt, and reaching down to throw her heels behind him. Then his pants, freeing his thick cock, ready to wreck the boastful bitch. He would teach her the meaning of size. He tore off her skirt as she tried to crawl, then snapped the meager worn thong away.

She sobbed, trying to crawl faster, sobering up, terrified. She arched back as he grabbed her blouse and ripped it free, her chest in pain as he did the same with her bra, breaking the front snap of her push-up bra. She tried to beg him to stop, but nothing intelligent came out of her mouth, not that much intelligence ever did. She screamed as he picked her up like she was nothing and tossed her onto his bed.

He smiled as she hit her back on the headboard, then pulled her to him and easily spread her legs. Her fear was palpable, savory, as he spat on her cunt and shoved in. Her scream would have brought the police if anyone lived within a mile of him. And he wasn’t even halfway in.

“I thought you liked them big, you stupid fucking cunt,” he sneered at her, slapping her once as hard as he could. Then he grabbed her hips and slammed deep, driving his girth and length into her, until he felt her wall. And then he kept slamming into her.

She winced, she wailed, she felt like she was being torn apart as her cervix was bruised by his brutal thrusts. She felt nothing but pain and agony as he grinned down at her, calling her names, telling her that this was what sex with a real man felt like. He spread her wide, fingers digging into her skin until it would later turn black and blue, as he rammed her with all her might. She came, despite it all, her body desperately trying to protect her perhaps, as she struggled to breathe through the agony. Finally, he shuddered, pulling out and leaving her splayed.