Tender Afternoon

This friendship with benefits involving Trevor - and Pamela - is officially all fucked up. The Woman With The Big Tits was napping in my other room when The Man With The Big Cock left my queen bed to visit the men's room. Turns out Trevor "visited" Pamela to consummate the relationship between The Woman And The Man With The Bigs.

I then proceeded to eject Pamela from my house. I also put Trevor on notice that I am completely in charge of our fuck going forward and he will do as I say or face criminal charges aka I will call law enforcement and report a sexual assault.

Okay, Trevor, I say. You understand the rules?

Well, yes, he says. But, answer this question: are you or are you not going to fuck me?

I think you know the answer to that question, Little Big Man. I mount Trevor's cock between my legs and slowly fuck it. Oh. My. Stars. Best cock ever.

I knew you wouldn't pass up the chance, Evie, he says. You're a slutty cockmonger. You'll do anything for dick, especially my dick.

So, you get yours and I'll get mine and that's the end of the road for us, I say. At that point, Shorty, you're back to beating off thinking about me and/or Pamela, because you're so fucking vertically challenged it's going to be tough out there. Good luck, my friend!

Evie, I wouldn't fuck you again if you begged me to!

Well, Junior, let's make that happen right now, I say to the Little Big Man as I ease my naked body up and off his 13 inch cock.

Damn! I'm going to miss that! But, Trevor's attitude has become most annoying, to say the least, and maybe better described as hostile. Therefore, I'm making the grand sacrifice.

Trevor's enormous primary sexual characteristic gave me the best sex ever. Yet, as much as I liked stroking the immense 13 with my hand as well as with Slot Machine, I've had it with stroking the fragile male ego that goes along with the 13.

Trevor! I exclaim, goddamnit, your bravado is hilarious. You would fuck me again. Every straight five foot six inch short man would fuck me. And, a few gay ones. And, I wouldn't have to beg. Face it, Trevor. I'm smoldering hot! You're short! And, your list of potential sex partners is a lot shorter. Listen. I know statistics, Trevor. Five foot six is minus one standard deviation from the mean of height of Caucasian men. Dig this, Little Man: fully 84 percent of those men are taller than you! You're a fucking loser! Now, get out of the house, you fucking loser! I'll give you five minutes. Five minutes, that is, before I call the police and report a sexual assault.

Trevor moves slowly from my queen bed. His cock is semi-flaccid, down to a thick 6 inches now. I guess strong women are frightening to him.

I watch him the entire duration of getting dressed. The fucker is handsome, in a short sense. Trevor has thick black wavy hair and brown eyes punctuating a beautiful face. His skin is white, like he doesn't tan in the summer. And, he doesn't need to tan because his V torso is sexy, pale or otherwise.

Other women would say, why, Evie? Well, Little Big Man is getting on my fucking nerves. My day began fucking a tall, good-looking sociopath. Then I met petite Pamela with the Giant Tits, and interrupted a great conversation with her to jack off a guy I didn't know in a public men's room. An hour later, that guy was in my queen bed helping me rack up 9 orgasms before that guy ran off from me to fuck Pamela. I kicked her out of my house, and now he's history.

Trevor's ready to go. His athletic bag is at his feet. He's wearing a red polo with black slacks. A rounded knot appears in his crotch.

You know, Evie, he says to my tits as he unzips his fly and pulls out his cock. Evie, we could have had outstanding sex all the time had you not turned into such a bitch on ice skates.

During this sentence, Trevor has jacked his cock back to the 13 size I so enjoy. Love Juice drips from my Slot Machine and dribbles down the insides of my long naked thighs. He has me. Right now. This time I want to suck the 13. I stare at it. I can already feel it. My nipples are bursting out of my areole. I gotta have Trevor's cock on my tongue, rubbing against the roof of my mouth. I want Trevor's cock filling up my mouth. My God! I need it. I need to suck it, to suck the knob and suck the long shaft. I need it. I have never been a woman who sucks cock, but now I crave it. That cock would feel really good in my mouth.

Suddenly, I snap out of the Dick Trance I so easily fell into. It hit me in the face: how desperate can a woman get, Evie? Sucking cock is demeaning. You're way better than that, Evie.

Well, the way I figure, I should move fast, because, as it has been said many times, desperate times call for desperate measures.

I know where my Glock 9 millimeter handgun is located. It's under the queen bed on the left side, away from the bedroom door. While Trevor is silently and mindlessly ogling me while beating off, I walk to that side of the bed. Wisps of my blonde hair fall to my face as I bend over to fetch the gun. My naked D cup boobs clack together as I stand up.

Trevor has brought himself to an orgasmic state while I searched for my Glock.

He looks as if he wants to tell me about it.

I'm going to come, Evie, he hisses as he gives his cock long strokes. Come here...so I can...come...on you! I want to come on...your...tits! Please! Fuck! This feels great! Come here...bitch...and jack my monster cock! I know you want it, bitch!

Trevor's face contorts. His breathing is labored. He's slack jawed and slumped over. The strokes of his right hand get faster. He's grabbing his balls with his left hand.

You know? A woman is gorgeous and strong when she makes herself come. Guys? Guys beating off look very ugly and vulnerable; they whimper and whine, they're kind of weird and pathetic creatures at That Moment, right before they blow a load.

He comes everywhere, like a porn star. On the rug. On the bed. Trevor aimed for me feet away and barely missed. His eyes roll back into his head.

Oh, oh, God! Evie! What did you think of that? Oh, oh, oh. My.

That's really gross. I can't believe I wanted to suck that.

The peace and calm orgasms bring men is instantly cut short for him as I brought my gun in outstretched arms to face level, aiming it at his now limp cock.

Well, I say with a laugh, looks like this naked girl can take care of herself! And, Trevor, thank you for the DNA deposit on my rug. That may come in handy!

Oh, look, I say, here's the safety on my Glock.

I click the safety lever.

Looks like the gun's ready to fire, I say. Oh, it's aimed at your cock. The 13 will not do you any good if it's splattered in your groin, now will it, Trevor. That's what I think of that!

Both my index fingers are on the trigger.

No, please, Evie, Trevor pleads. Don't. No. Let's talk about this. I didn't mean the bitch remark. I'm sorry I masturbated on your bedroom floor. Please put the gun down and let's talk through this.

I slowly swing the aim of my Glock 18 inches from Trevor's crotch to the left door jamb.

Evie! For God's sake! Don't shoot me!

I know my brown eyes are on fire as I pull the trigger. The kick is hard and the blast is deafening. There is a hole in the door jamb and in the wall to the left. Trevor bolts from the premises before the sheet rock dust clears. I'd say he's long gone and possibly still has not placed his dick back in his pants.

I stand naked, in a stupor. What led me to believe the Glock was loaded? I don't know.

My older sister Madison is correct: really crazy shit happens in college.

******

I'm a lucky naked woman. If that slug would have ricocheted and taken out his brain...well, Trevor's come soaked into the rug could have answered a lot of questions.

I can smell myself. It's not the sweet aroma that waifs in anticipation of good sex. No. The odor is a mixture of my stale Slot Machine with Comedy Carter's old come, Trevor's saliva, and this morning's crotch sweat. I have not bathed since 9 last night, yet another Carter specification. If I had Vagisil, I'd try it in an attempt to alleviate foul puss. I really can't recall ever smelling this badly. That could be because I've never fucked two different men in a 12 hour period.

Evie. What a slutty cockmonger you are.

Next time I could use some tenderness. The score: 5 men in an academic year. I'm talking sex, as defined by President William Jefferson Clinton in 1998. I was a four year old preschooler then, and Bill's ass was in a sling. He escaped impeachment. I grew to be an early twenties woman in search of top-drawer fucking.

How about fucking fellow Millennials? No. We'd spend too much time networking.

Or, fucking Gen Xers? And listen to them complain about their suck-ass life? No way.

Hell, I'd fuck a Baby Boomer right now if he's not too fat. A large 150 mg dose of Viagra and decades of experience and appreciation of great sex with a fine woman may mean a slender 60 year old could keep his cock up long enough for me to pursue the elusive dozen orgasms.

That one journey to the mattress by the sexy Evie with the legs and the 34Ds and the round athletic ass and the blonde/brown eyes combo and the fuck-me-now attitude would make 2016 that man's best year in forever.

Or, maybe a Baby Boomer woman.

I should revisit that someday.

Here's the lineup. Here's what happened:

November 2015. Joey Football, an ultra handsome college wideout who called me Babe, fucked me once with a small dick for several seconds, breaking the record for quickest ejaculation on or in Evie. I'm talking Slam, no Bam, then he moved on to the Smoking Hot Radio Personality, Boston's answer to making National Public Radio sexy. They're fucking crazy if they think that will happen.

January 2016. Jacques. The genius Frenchman who gave up his Wall Street career, aspiring to be a gigolo. I allowed him to practice on me. Fucked. Me. Once. Well, he got the premature out of his system, then found the Buxom Strumpet to fine tune his abilities.

March 2016. Deano the Weightlifter. No body fat on that heavenly body. Deano served as the best fuck because I knew I had only 20 seconds of writhing under him and digging my nails into his back, so, I made the best of it. Then, he filled me in on his upcoming nuptials with Joan, the Beautiful Dark Fiancée. That ended with a crash, meaning I threw dishes and other shit at him as he ran from me.

April 2016. Comedy Carter. I took it all from him until I met one of the other women, Pamela, my new friend with the Way Big Tits, until I kicked her out of my house for fucking Trevor. In my house.

The first four had small cocks. Trevor laid his 13 on the bed and I thought I had The Answer. He fucked Pamela, turned twisted, and I'm all alone.

With my handgun.

I should hunt down Trevor and shoot the motherfucker in the scrotum.

My iPhone 6 goes off with a timba beat. I pick up the device and see Pamela's headshot on the screen. Time for reconciliation.

I slide the button.

I don't know why you would call me after I -

Evie! I just saw Trevor throwing up in a trash can! He was trying to cover his crotch but his cock was hanging out. He was really wretching. What did you do to him, Evie?

I don't know, Pamela, but I owe you the world and a big apology. I can't believe I kicked you out of my house. Please forgive me for doing that. I was under an evil spell. I was mind-controlled by his 13 inch cock. Of course you could fuck him. I didn't get a finder's fee or any other benefits. He's free meat. I'm sorry. Please. Let's make up and start over. Where are you?

I hear sniffles in the phone. You bitch! Pamela exclaims. You're making me cry!

Oh, Pamela! Where are you? I ask again.

I'm on your porch, goddamnit!

Porch? What are you doing, stalking me?

No! Pamela says. Well, no. Maybe. Sort of. May - okay. Maybe.

Pamela, you don't have to do that.

I wanted to apologize to you, Evie. I should not have so blatantly fucked your man.

Pamela, have you ever heard of a non-blatant fuck?

Well, no.

Then, get in here, you whore!

Pamela barges through my front door. Her raincoat is falling off her petite frame. The Gigonormous Tits are undulating as she runs and launches herself naked self into my naked body. We hug and embrace as long lost friends would.

Except we're all skin.

That's nice.

Really nice.

Fucking awesome.

God, Evie, Pamela says. You stink.

Yeah. Thanks, Pamela. I need an industrial strength douche. Probably back to back. I'm going to shower. Why don't -

Don't leave me, Evie! I know we've known each other for just...like...5 hours. Maybe? So, hold me. Don't let me go. You're the best thing that's happened to me in years. I can just tell.

I squeeze Pamela tighter. I'm kissing her forehead, making her just less than 3 inches shorter. The Tits are jutted against my abdomen, surprisingly huge, still surprising huge, compared to her petite frame. I'm looking over her hip brunette bob, a perfect hairstyle for Pamela. She looks like Keira Knightly, who resembles Winona Ryder. Gorgeous.

Her aroma is intoxicating.

There goes the Slot Machine again. It's buzzing and dripping wet. Like an open faucet, goddamnit.

Face it. I'm bisexual.

No. Not necessarily true.

I'm Pamela-sexual.

I want Pamela. Anywhere. On the hood of the black BMW Z4 I will purchase upon graduation in three weeks. Creek bank sex with Pamela. I want her Zeppelin Tits. I want to softly caress Her 36Gs and hold each with both hands as I suck the chrome off of each nipple. I want to kiss her Slot Machine. I want to tongue her Slot Machine. I want to tongue her Swollen You-Know-What. And, after all this, I want Pamela to stiffen, writhe, squeal, pant, squirm, and come in my arms.

Evie, says Pamela. You smell worse, yet I don't want to leave you now, so I suggest you and I shower. Together.

Damnit, girl! If someone were to read our story in a novella and read that scene, that shower scene, they'd say, How predictable. How typical. How banal.

Whatthefuck. Let's do it.

******

The shower toy I call my foofa thing is saturated with facial soap. My mother, a woman with whom I can discuss anything except my affinity for Pamela, recommended I use facial soap like Dove or an equivalent in the shower, thereby starting early with soft and supple skin. Good advice.

Pamela quickly took care of my odor with the foofa-thing. That felt...oh, I had an orgasm.

Eeeee...wow.

There you go, woman. You're in it for feminine hygiene and you make me come. This is going to be fun.

Lather me up, Pamela says, and make it a great day!

Pamela is soaped up like right now. I've so excitedly soaped her up so much she looks like a snow woman with enormous snow tits.

Through all my foofa-ing on Pamela and her Major League Yaboos (please refer to the 1978 film Animal House), she spoke almost non-stop about various topics of conversation:

Her education (University of the Arts in Philadelphia, majoring in acting.) Interesting. Great choice of careers for a well-endowed woman.

Her tits (They've opened a lot of doors, Evie, and kept them open!) I'll say.

Her tits again (I considered breast reduction surgery, but luckily I had the flu on the day of the operation. That's Good Karma.) Wow. Damn. Noooo! Please see me before you try to do that again.

Her tits yet again (Sure, they'll sag, but firm breast surgery is being perfected as we speak!) Good to know for the 34D crowd also.

Her tits, one more time (Here, Evie, hold one of these boobs. They're awesome!) Can you see two straight guys in the same shower? Here, Mike, hold my hard cock. It's awesome!

Her future (Nashville! Hollywood is crowded, my singing voice sucks too much for Broadway, and Branson would never stand for any woman with my Boob Action.) I can see that happening, however Branson would love Pamela back stage.

Trevor (Trevor did not bring a condom and he couldn't get it up.) I believe her. Fucker deserves that embarrassment.

Most Favorite Legit Job (I loved being a high-class stripper in a high-class gentlemen club in Anaheim, California. Men were amazed by the tits and the tips were so outstanding I didn't have to date the high-class gentlemen, which vaulted the tips up even further!) I would love to have been there. Maybe Pamela will dance for me.

Most Favorite Non-Legit Job (I scored on the SAT at 1560, 800 verbal, so that led me to become a paper writer for the Neanderthal legacies who could barely hang on at Penn. Prices were $8,000 for a C and $10,000 for a B. I had four C clients per semester for the four years I spent at UArts in a strict double blind business. All cash.) Not surprised at all. I can sense intelligence in a woman. Plus, that's over a quarter million dollars! Talk about brains!

Men (Evie, I think you and I feel the same about the Cro-Magnon Gender. I'm looking for kindness, tenderness, and a bright, long-legged woman with a smart set.) That was a huge electric jumper cable shot to my crotch.

My Slot Machine is like an earthquake during a flood, Pamela. If you don't take this spare foofa-thing, lather it up, and soap up Down There like right the fuck now, I'm going to be forced to do it myself.

With all the small and QuickDraw cocks I've been around lately, I've become an expert at doing it myself.

Pamela smiles. The lathered-up spare foofa-thing is ready for action, Evie my girlfriend. Spread your legs like butter and I'll take it from there.

That I do.

Our eyes are melded together as she expertly buffs my Swollen You-Know-What. I think that part of the Slot Machine is going to explode. I'm talking fucking atomization.

I force my eyes open. I don't want to miss anything about my next orgasm.

God, Pamela...uhhhh...yes...girl...you know what to do to me...eeeee...ahhhhhhhh...!!...ahiiieeeee...

She's smiling as she gives it to me. That's a turn-on.

That's it, my darling! Ahhhhhhhhh...don't...don't...keep...

Okay, Pammmmmm...ahhhlaaaa...

I suck in a deep breath, so deep I go lightheaded.

That's it, Pamela. You just made me come twice in a minute. Now's your turn. I need to suck at least one of your tits. Either will do. Your choice.

Here, Pamela says, handing me a G-cup tit. Now, while you do that, take your foofa-thing and...polish...my...if I can borrow your phraseology, Swollen You-Know-What.

The Daily Double. Nipple sucking and polishing Pamela's Swollen You-Know-What. Her hips undulate. Her breathing picks up the pace. I still can't believe how big Pamela's Volleyball Tits are.

I'm going to come again!

And, there it is. A mild, yet...Oh. My. Stars.

That was beautiful.

Pamela's body goes rigid. Her face is frozen and she's holding her breath. She's about to get hers. I continue to suck and polish. Suck and polish. Suck the Volleyballs and polish the Swollen You-Know-What.

Oh my God, Evie! You're making me come! Oh, God! It's a big one! Huge! It's...ahhhhhhhh...have mercy on me!

Pamela thrusts her hips as she fucks the foofa-thing hard. Her tits vibrate.

Fffff...uuuccckkk! Evie! Fuck! That's good!

Ohhhh...fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck!

Hold me, Evie! I'm collapsing!

Well! she exclaims. Two orgasms! That's the best ever. Whew! Shower sex! Nothing finer!

We hold each other in silence as the water streams over our bodies.

I'm speechless, I say. And, that's an accomplishment! I always have something to say.

I've picked up on that, Pamela says with a smile. And, I've picked up on your penchant to count everything, Evie. So, I've come three times and you're ahead with five orgasms. That means you came twice without being touched on the Swollen You-Know-What. That means, dear Evie, you come just by looking at me! Must be nice.

Fuck you, Pamela. Look at me long enough and you'll be masturbating on my queen bed.