The Living Legend

(This story is the property of its author, H. K. Smythe. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the express authorization of the author is strictly prohibited. Characters under 18 do not engage in sexual activity.)

(This story is the property of its author, H. K. Smythe. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the express authorization of the author is strictly prohibited. Characters under 18 do not engage in sexual activity.)

The Living Legend

The Living Legend

Oscar Legend

I always wanted to play football in the Premier League ever since I was six or seven. Today I am a striker for the Premier League Magic Forest Ruffians Football Club. Our stadium is in a rougher part of London, but our fans take care of us. No one would dare harass a Ruffian, at least not in our part of town.

Some opponents have told me that I was a 'Living Legend In My Own Mind.' Most have had nothing to say after the game in which I shredded their defense with a hat trick or worse. I love the challenge when someone tries to trash talk me.

Legally, I am Oscar Legend the III. My grandfather played club rugby. My father played football, that is English Football League football, but his exploits were less than legendary. My intent is to change all that by the time I hang up my boots.

Even when I was a kid I loved to kick the ball around. When I learned I could embarrass goalkeepers by scoring on them, I decided I wanted to be the best. I've done the running and the weight work and practiced for hours. I want to be addressed on the pitch as 'Mr. Legend.' At six-foot-five, and ninety-three kilos, or 205 pounds, I'm bigger than just about anyone else on the pitch except for a few goalkeepers.

I don't have a lot of interests beyond the pitch. I have to be careful about my two primary interests. One is that I enjoy fighting. I love it when some drunken idiot at a pub wants to 'take it outside.' On the advice of counsel, I have to be careful not to leave marks or break bones. Administering pain is not a problem.

My other interest is doing women. I like doing married women for short periods, maybe a few weeks. Then I send them back to their husbands. The poor jerks can never ream them out like my trusty little Oscar at eight+ inches. There are guys thicker but 'little Oscar' can do the job for any woman. No woman has ever dumped me and few have turned me down.

My favorite evening is to flirt with some bloke's wife until he asks me to 'take it outside.' After I rough him up until he can't stand up, I then take his bird, stand her up against a nearby wall, and fuck the shit out of her. Then, while hubby is still checking for broken bones, I ask her, "Are you going home with him or me." Most choose me. The impression on the poor bloke's face is priceless. If ten or twelve barflies follow us out to witness the proceedings, so much the better. If I can execute hat tricks by the dozen in football stadiums with fifty or sixty thousand fans, I can certainly execute a personal demolition and ensuing thorough screwing of his wife or girlfriend in front of a dozen or so bar patrons.

A perfect evening for me is to demolish a team on the football pitch, preferably with a hat trick by me and a nil score by our defense. Then a few beers in a nearby pub, followed by taking a bloke and his bird outside, and roughing him up just enough that he has to passively watch me fuck the slut. He might not have even known what a slut his bitch was, but he gets an insight when he watches me leave with her. The way I look at it, I get what I want, the wife or girlfriend gets what she wants, and the guy is happily surprised when she comes back to him, well fucked after a day or a week or more at my pad.

Bridget Allison Taylor

When I met Jack, I wasn't overwhelmed but he was both strong and gentle, and over time I grew to love him. He worked hard at a factory job and had purchased a row house not far from his work but in an area often characterized as being 'rough.' That was a good thing about Jack, he was pretty good-sized guy and usually could steer clear of confrontations with a few quiet words. In addition to that, he was the sweetest lover I had ever had.

When he asked me to move in with him, I was happy to accept. I not only loved him but respected him. He worked hard, and I thought he would make a great father. I got a job in a nearby shop and felt safe as long as I got home before dark. The area where my job was had numerous small shops, including green grocers and butchers, so I would usually buy a few things each day on the way home from work.

Jack was a very caring lover and always made sure I got off, usually, before, during, and after physical intercourse. Unlike some men, he was happy to do me manually and orally, even doing oral after he had ejaculated inside my kitty. After a few months of living together, we decided to get married. A few months later we were married in a small ceremony with friends and family attending.

We agreed that we would hold off on children until we had a bit more of a nest egg accumulated. We were happy together. On a typical evening, I would fix him dinner when he got home from his factory job, and then, depending on what was on the telly, we would often go together to the nearest pub where we would drink a few pints and chat with his friends. Usually, half or more of his mates would bring along their wives or girlfriends.

Jack Taylor

A cousin of mine introduced me to Bridget. She and Bridget worked together in a clothing store. I thought she was the prettiest bird I had ever had a date with. I took her out for some grub and then some drinking and was totally amazed when she kissed me good night and agreed to a second date, giving me her phone number, and admonishing me to 'call' her. On the second date, I showed her my small house and she spent the first of many nights there giving me everything I wanted and then some. It seemed like she was the perfect combination of a mistress of the kitchen, a lady in public, and a whore in the bedroom. After two weeks of dating almost every night, I asked her to move in with me and was surprised when she enthusiastically accepted. She also accepted my marriage proposal a few months later with alacrity and tears, and soon we started our married life together.

One of our favorite things to do was walk to the nearby pub and have a few pints while chatting with my mates. Enough of them brought their plus-ones that Bridget felt comfortable and didn't have to join our endless discussions of the ins and outs of Premier League football. A lot of evenings we would have a girls table and a guys table, although the guys table was almost always quite full and the girls table usually had a few empty seats. We were very happy until one night this big bloke comes in and buys a round for the girls table.

Some of my mates warned me. "You better look after Bridget. That's Oscar the Legend. He's known to be a real pussy hound!"

I took their warnings to heart. I wandered over to their table standing next to Bridget, "When do you want to go home, sweetheart?"

She replied, "Not yet, honey. This is Oscar Legend. He's the starting forward..."

I cut her off, telling her, "I know who he is! I also know his reputation as a ladies' man. I don't want you falling afoul of him."

The asshole continued smirking and stroking Bridget's thigh. I told him, "That's my wife, you're groping!"

He smiled and said in a mellow baritone, "So, it is! And a mighty fine wife she is. You don't mind if we have a little harmless fun."

I replied, a little heatedly, "I don't think it's that harmless! You've got a reputation that precedes you, friend!"

Bridget interjected, "Don't worry, Jack! I'm going home with you! A little fun never hurt anyone."

This was bad. I felt like I was losing her to this asshole. I pleaded, "Please, Bridget. Let's go home now!"

She responded, "Jack, there's still beer on the table. Let's not leave yet!"

I continued, taking her by the arm, "Now, Bridget!"

The asshole intervened, "Hey, buddy! Let's not go overboard! I'll buy you a pint. You need to cool off!"

I told him properly, "You're the one that needs to cool off. Now take your hands off my wife!"

He retorted, "She and I were just having a little fun! You're over-reacting big time."

I calculated the odds. He was taller but thinner than me. I suspected I outweighed him, but I knew my excess was not be all muscle.

I said, quietly. "This is my wife and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave her alone."

Bridget looked horrified. He replied, calmly, "The lady hasn't complained about anything I've said or done. If you want to be an ass, we can take this outside."

I responded, angrily, "I'm not the ass here, outside it is!"

Bridget started crying, "Don't do this, Jack! I love you and only you!"

Then Bridget asked the asshole, "If Jack apologizes, can we call it quits and not have any violence."

Asshole looked back and forth between us and answered, "As long as Bridget gives me a hug and a kiss goodnight, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

Bridget

I thought Oscar made a good proposal to end the standoff without violence. I stepped forward to give Oscar the requisite kiss and hug, but Jack was having none of it. He roughly grabbed my arm pulling me back toward him, saying "Don't even think about it. Nothing's going to satisfy this asshole but a good licking!"

Jack took a big swing but Oscar stepped inside and delivered a stiff right to Jack's stomach. He dropped his arms to protect his stomach. Oscar started beating Jack's flanks. He moved his arms to protect his flanks. Oscar whacked his arms. When Jack couldn't even lift his arms, Oscar went back to his stomach. It was, I think, what some would call an old-fashioned beat down. Jack just seemed to crumple to the ground. He couldn't even use his arms to raise himself up to his feet. It was pathetic.

Oscar then turned to me, saying, "To the victor, go the spoils! Let's have that hug and kiss. Passively, I let him advance, he embraced and began kissing me. He had been so rough with Jack, now he was very gentle with me. I thought it would be a short and simple kiss, but it went on and on. I couldn't help but respond back in kind. I put my hands behind his head and continued the mutual tongue massage. I knew this was not nice, but I didn't care. My hormones had been set off by the almost savage beat down of my husband.

Oscar turned me around facing the back wall of the pub. He pulled my panties down and penetrated my soaking pussy from the rear. I didn't care about the dozen or so pub regulars that were watching, I loved the large cock that was violating my poor little kitty. The cries of pain and humiliation coming from my thoroughly beaten husband were a mild background noise as we mutually ground me to three huge orgasms. Finally, he filled me up with his seed.

He reached down and put my panties in his pocket as I tried to understand what had happened, including my public debauchery. Oscar asked a very important question, "Are you going home with me or him?"

I considered everything. The beaten, whining lump on the ground, or the magnificent specimen who had just beaten my husband and had so thoroughly fucked me. I whispered, "Let's go."

He asked, "What did you say? I didn't hear clearly."

I said, loud enough for everyone at the back of the pub to hear, "You heard me! Let's go!"

I felt bad about leaving Jack crumpled on the ground, but if he hadn't been so bent out of shape trying to assert his macho masculinity, none of this would have happened.

Oscar

This was going to be a wonderful night. I intended to wear this bitch out. She was the kind of malleable slut I loved to have. After a few days, I would break her in as a team slut. First, she could pull a train with the starters, then later with the reserves. Jack or whatever his name was, might not even want her back, after the Ruffians finished with her. I decided to chat her up a little to keep her warm for when we got to my place in Kensington, "Bridget, you are a fantastic woman. It makes me very happy to be taking you home with me."

She replied, "Yeah, whatever. That was the love of my life you beat up back there. I know he deserved it, but don't you think you were a little hard on him?"

I responded, not wanting to make waves, "Possibly, sometimes I don't know my own strength."

She flirted back at me, "You better save some of that strength for when we get to your place."

Bridget

Oscar had a wonderful car. I think it's a Lamborghini. It has a very quiet comfortable ride, yet you can feel the rumble of all that horsepower. I like a deep blue car, particularly if it matches the color of my eyes. I was excited about the rest of the night. This guy seems like a real stud, if I can judge from his first performance. He had a big cock and knows how to use it. I can't wait until we're in bed and he sticks me in it again. He damn well better be good. It may be hard to smooth things over with Jack tomorrow morning. I better not think too much about that, I want to enjoy this night. When I suggested he might have been a little rough on Jack, he claimed to not know his own strength. Ha, I bet! I flirted that he better save it for when he was between my thighs. I know he only wants to fuck the shit out of me. I can live with that for one night, although I don't want to screw things up with Jack. I love Jack. This guy just wants a night of depravity with me. I'm fine with that even though I may have to beg on my hands and knees tomorrow to get Jack back on board.

Jack

How could Bridget do that? I never thought in a million years she'd piss on our relationship like that. Thank God we don't have any children! I guess she'll be back in the morning; the big question is 'Will I want her back?' She fucked him right there in front of me and my mates. How could she disrespect me and her marriage vows like that? Then she went home with him. It would serve the bitch right if I wasn't here when she comes back tomorrow. Maybe I'll change the locks and lock her ass out. She doesn't deserve any less. I need to find a hardware store that will be open on Sunday. Oh God! It hurts to move my arms or my trunk. I need to find some way of getting back at that asshole. He disgraced me twice in front of my mates. I wish I had brought our car. Every step on the way home is going to hurt like hell! Three years of marriage down the toilet in a few brief moments. What a bitch!

Bridget

What a nice apartment Oscar has. I think it's not only nicer but bigger than Jack's and my place. "Oh, you're such a bad boy!" I told him as he rubbed my boobs and kissed the back of my neck. It's like he knew that would get me triply aroused. I told him, "Baby, I want some more of what you have between your legs."

He asked me, "What do you want me to do with it?"

I informed him, "After you strip me naked, I want you to stick it in my pussy?"

He inquired, "Oh, do you like to be fucked in your cunt?"

I replied, "Of course, and the sooner you start performing, the better it will be for both of us!"

He explained, "I'm taking that as a challenge, Bridget!" giving me a big shit-eating grin.

He led me to his bedroom and stripped me touching every part of my body that was erogenous. I was dripping wet as he quickly stripped and guided me into his bed. We started off with the flatiron, and he began to show me what could be done with eight+ inches of lady pleasing organ. I moaned and groaned as delightful sensations flowed through my body. I came like a helpless slut. Maybe that's what I was. I couldn't move, although I certainly didn't want to diminish the erotic pleasure I was experiencing. I cried out, "Oscar, you're killing me!"

He responded, "What a way to go, right, Bridget?" as I continued to have one convulsive climax after another.

Finally, as I came yet one more time, he unloaded in me. He pulled my head around so that he could kiss my lips. I asked, "Oscar, have I died and gone to heaven?"

He answered, "Maybe. I think I'm feeling the same way!"

He rolled me to my side and then stuck his cock in my face so I could clean it with my mouth. That was a mistake. By the time, I finished cleaning it, the damn thing was hard again. This was likely not the worst mistake of my life, as he guided me atop his lap and soon I was impaling myself, enjoying the eroticism of sliding that eight+ inches of masculinity into my fully ready kitty.

I could not believe the thrilling pleasure as my tits bounced against my chest and I repeatedly slid up and down on his amazing manhood. After about fifteen minutes of total joy, he asked me to turn around and I was able to enjoy the equivalent pleasures of reverse cowgirl. The only difference was this time it was my fifth body-shaking orgasm when he shot ropes of baby juice against my vagi walls. I was exhausted, but it made me feel really good when he caressed my body and gently kissed my face and told me, "Bridget, that was the most amazing sex of my life!"

I didn't believe him, but told him anyway, "Oscar, that was the best sex I've ever had."

I couldn't believe it. I was cuddling and fondling with the star of the Magic Forest Ruffians. Any girl in England would give her right tit to be here where I was. Bridget, from Hackett Street, you've come a long way, girl!

I went to sleep and dreamed blissful thoughts of the most handsome striker in all of England. It wasn't totally a dream, because there was that very same eight+ inches pressing against my belly. The only thing wrong with this picture was that it wasn't in my pussy. We were soon able to address that deficiency, as Oscar the Legend began pounding my brains out doggy style. If anything, it felt even better than the night before. Oh, if Jack could see me now! Shit, he would probably have to take another beat-down if he did.

It seemed that Mr. Legend's body and mine were made for each other as somehow, utilizing the vehicle of many orgasms, I was able to survive fifty minutes of him ramming his dick into my poor little vagi. I thought to myself, 'I could get used to this!'

Afterward, he bounded out of bed. He told me to get up as there was a place just around the corner which served a delightful English breakfast.

I quickly dressed and we walked around the corner and about five minutes more to a small bar and grill. We entered and were greeted by the barman, who stood behind the bar and in front of the grill. He greeted us with a cheery, "Morning, Oscar! What will you and your lady be having this fine morning?"

With out hesitation, Oscar ordered, "Sid, we'll have two full English, if you please. Sid this fine lady is Bridget. Bridget, this is Sid."

I smiled and said, "Hi, Sid! Pleased to meet you!"

He smiled back and replied, "Pleased to meet you, Miss Bridget! Will it be coffee or tea?"

It was hard not to smile at this guy, "Tea, please."

He continued, "And the eggs over easy?"

Oscar replied, "Of course!"

I smiled and gave him a thumbs up, simply saying, "Thanks, Sid!"

Sid gave each of us a cuppa and a glass of juice. We went to a nearby table and sat down. Oscar commented, "You know Sid doesn't warm up to every lady I bring in here. Of course, the argument could be made that some haven't exactly been ladies."

I replied, "I don't know. He seems like a nice enough guy to me."

In a few minutes Sid brought us two large platters full of English breakfast. There were generous portions of every item, which included back bacon, pork sausage, black pudding, eggs over easy, grilled tomatoes, grilled mushrooms, baked beans, and fried bread. He then produced bottles of brown sauce and ketchup from his apron pocket. A few minutes later and he returned with a full, hot pot of tea.

I told Oscar, "This looks amazing!"

He responded, "It tastes even better, I promise."