The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Fiend’s Tongue

There are many curses still lingering from the ancient world, in an era when mankind understood that the universe was meant to be understood not as a matter of reason, but through the articles of faith—which is to say, not understood very well at all. It was an era of gods and goddesses, inimitable blessings and unfathomable horrors, artifacts and monsters and, of course, curses.

It is said that of all the curses to color the world in those days, there are few so wondrous and terrible as that of the fiend’s tongue. The tales—legends, some—of the mischief and chaos it wrought happily died out in time immemorial.

Had they not, this would have been one of them.

“I can’t believe that asshole!” Erika exclaimed as she hung up her phone. “This is the third time Austin’s stood me up in the past two weeks! Always with some bullshit excuse. Last weekend he said he got called into work, but I drove by his house and saw his car in the driveway. I called him on it and he claimed he was car-pooling, which he has never done before. Then Monday he said he had a thing at his church, but I think he was playing poker with his idiot friend Tyler—his wallet was flush with cash the next day for sure.”

The girls were walking around in the uppermost reaches of the campus library, where Carina, Erika’s best friend and roommate, was picking up some primary sources for her master’s thesis. Erika was tall and gangly, having inherited all of her father’s height but none of her mother’s curves; Carina was short and rather pudgy, only spared a ghastly pale complexion by her Latin heritage. Despite their opposite appearances, they were alike in that neither one could have carried the stack of heavy tomes by themselves. Erika was quietly somewhat envious of Carina’s successes, but she was quite a student herself. This time next year, she’d be working on her own master’s degree.

“What was it this time?” Carina asked as she picked up a book in a language Erika couldn’t even guess at.

“Migraine, he claims. Except he didn’t bring it up until I reminded him he was supposed to meet us for dinner, and then suddenly his voice got all quiet and whiny. I swear, half the stuff that comes out of his mouth is pure bullshit!”

“I don’t know why haven’t dumped him already, Erika,” the stout Latina replied as she walked with her friend to a dusty and unused corner of the library. There was a statue there in the Gothic fashion, something that looked like a gargoyle but with a serpentine tongue that stretched nearly a foot out of its mouth. Creepy thing, that.

“I know, I know, you always say that when I vent to you,” Erika said with a sigh, sitting down on the edge of the pedestal atop which sat the statue.

“Because every time you mention Austin’s name, you’re venting about him. I just don’t get why you put up with it.” She set down her armload of books atop the one Erika had already dropped.

“I know, I know, but… you know how I like a project. He just seems so fixable! Like, everything is so close to being right. He’s not romantic, but he’s flirty. He’s not hot, but if he put in some effort into dressing nice, maybe hit the gym a little and work off the waist line, he could be pretty attractive. He’s not great in the sack, but he tries, usually. He’s not smart, but he manages decent grades. I just know if I push him a little, I can turn him into a winner. He’s kinda cute,” she insisted. “Sometimes.”

“See? Ten seconds ago you were furious with him, and now you’re defending him—on the basis of his mediocrity.”

“Hey now, he’s better than average. Though to hear him tell it, that’d be a grave insult,” Erika said, leaning her head back wearily on the extended tongue. “Never has an unkind word to say about himself.”

“Ugh. Erika, just dump that dipshit story topper already,” she said, readying her laptop for note-taking.

“I don’t want to break up with him—yet, at least. I don’t know, maybe I do. I’m just sick of his lines. I just… I just wish he’d speak the truth, ya know? Just one damn day where there was none of the usual b.s. flowing out of his mouth.” She twitched, looking behind her —had the statue moved? She shuddered at its creepy expression, and moved to a nearby chair. With her back to it.

“Anyway, let’s buckle down. You have a thesis to write, and I have my own boat-load of studying to get to.” The girls opened their books, and put themselves to their studies.

Meanwhile, in Fitzpatrick’s sports bar not far off-campus, Austin was returning from the bathroom, where he’d fielded a call from his girlfriend Erika. He sat back down opposite his idiot friend Tyler with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, buddy—old ball and chain calling, didn’t want her to know I was hitting up the bars.”

“Yeah, yeah—Erika calls like four times a day, man, and texts twice as often. Bright as she is, you’d think she’d have figured out when to give it a rest at some point.”

Their waitress brought them their opening round of drinks. She was cute, for a girl a little on the heavy side, with the generous helping of T&A God gave those girls to make up for their other short-comings. Austin eyed her openly, and she smiled back in a banal fashion. “If you guys need anything, just flag me down, m’kay? I’m Melody.”

“Melody—lovely name for a lovely girl,” Austin said. This wasn’t really true—or at least, depending on how one felt about the name, it was at best half-true. She was wearing a top at least two sizes too small for her, and a skirt that was even worse. A serious muffin top was impossible to miss between the two, and her legs looked like a slightly tanned version of cottage cheese.

“Thanks,” Melody said disingenuously before disappearing quickly enough that the road runner would’ve been envious. Apparently even girls like her didn’t want to get hit on by random guys at the bar. Austin was decidedly the better-looking of the two, even if he had a bit of a young-guy version of a dad bod going on; Tyler was just doughy and homely through and through, though at least he didn’t hit on every girl with a functioning pussy that he came across like Austin did.

“You know, I think I totally tapped that ass freshman year,” his friend boasted. “I was pretty drunk, but I remember the good parts, at least. Girl did stuff you wouldn’t believe. Wouldn’t mind another piece of that.”

Tyler sighed. “See? This is what I don’t get—you’re dating this Erika chick, but here you are dodging her and hitting on waitresses. Sure, Smelly Melly there is probably a 3, but Erika’s not really any cuter, man—a total 4, at best. Cut her loose already.”

Austin made a face that expressed just how dense he considered Tyler. “Dude, whatever. Maybe Erika doesn’t radiate hotness, but that’s just how she dresses most of the time, all those baggy sweaters and loose jeans and all.”

“Yeah, because she’s like eighty pounds soaking wet, ass barely visible and boobs nonexistent, and she’s trying not to look like it,” Tyler said.

For a fraction of a second, too small a span of time to even be called an entire instant, there was a shimmer in the air, a red bolt-of-lightning-in-miniature that raced across the room and ended in Austin’s mouth as he opened it to take a swig of his beer. It arrived and entered and pulsed and faded all before anyone could even notice it had happened.

But it had happened. Be sure of that.

Austin, as oblivious as anyone to what had just transpired, just laughed at his buddy’s cluelessness. “You just don’t get it, do you man… she just dresses like that because she doesn’t like the attention, man.”

Tyler arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Attention? What the fuck attention are you talking about?”

“I swear I’d told you this before—Erika does modeling, dude.”

“Aw, you’re full of it. A hand model, maybe.”

“No way—she’s a swimsuit model—dynamite body on her under those frumpy clothes,” Austin said earnestly.

Tyler paused. “Really?” He conjured his mental image of Erika. Tall, leggy, intriguing little lumps under those loose-fitting sweaters. Face not much to look at, but he could imagine, underneath those clothes…

“Totally, dude. Does catalogs and stuff.”

“Huh. With that face, I never would’ve figured,” Tyler said.

“Her face isn’t so bad—she’s actually really pretty, when you see her all made up and everything.”

“Huh, yeah, I guess I could see that. Bikini model, eh? Man, you sure lucked out—should have her fine ass around more often.”

“Yeah, I know—we were gonna do dinner tonight, if she and her buddy Carina got back from their little modeling competition in time, but no dice.”

“Hey, didn’t you try to set me up with Carina? That name rings a bell.”

Austin nodded. “That’s the one.”

“And she’s a bikini model, too?!”

“Yep, most of Erika’s friends are models of one kind or another—bikini and lingerie, mostly. They make good money at it, too.”

“Damnit! You told me Carina was kind of a fatty, you prick!”

Austin considered. “Well, she’s curvy, you know—Erika’s got the whole Kathy Ireland kinda bod going on, that minimalist kind of sexy. Carina’s more of a Salma Hayek type, and loves to show it off. Bit shorter, maybe. Even kinda looks like her—complains about getting mistaken for her sometimes,” he said.

Tyler scowled over his beer. “Yeah, you know me, always going on about what a fatty Salma Hayek was. You fuck,” he said bitterly.

“Sorry, man. Next time it comes up, I’ll put in a good word for ya.”

“Yeah.” Tyler turned his attention to the basketball game on the TV and away from his asshole of a friend.

Erika forced her face into a smile even as the judge announced the competition winner—once again, it was Francesca. That Brazilian bitch had won the last three contests in a row. Not that Erika actually expected to win herself—busty figures were back in and she was anything but. Intense discipline in diet and exercise had accentuated her breasts to the extent she could, but still, without surgery she’d never be more than a B cup, and her agent had advised her against going that route.

Carina, meanwhile, had once more captured runner-up, and after the final remarks, the girls went through the usual shaking hands with the rich guys and minor celebrities who always flocked to these things, congratulating her best friend along the way. There was a lot of envy there—Carina and her gorgeous face, huge knockers, perfect skin…

“Good job, Carrie. You totally deserved it.”

“Thanks, Erika. You were great out there today—you’re having an amazing hair day.”

They shared a smile, and the tension faded as they went about the rest of the meet-and-greet. Loads of pervy guys were here, like usual, asking for the girls’ autographs on pictures they’d brought in. Erika’s most popular was one of her in a cream-colored one-piece that was just two straps covering her nipples and an inch or two on either side, meeting down near her tummy. Just a hint of her labia was noticeable if you squinted. Her face had been air-brushed and she had full makeup on, just enough to take her north of merely “pretty.” It took effort, that was for sure. Erika regretted that shoot—it had been way more risque than she usually went for, but she had to acknowledge it had been a boost for her career. (Not that she was going to be a full-time model after college; she had more serious aspirations.)

She knew full well Carina had no such modesty, though. Her fans had a hard time finding bikini shots of her in anything but two-pieces, and many of them so skimpy that some public beaches wouldn’t have allowed her to parade around as such. It was frankly, to Sarah’s mind, pornographic; still, it had paid Carina’s way through her undergrad and was more than paying for her master’s now. Between the two endeavors, the poor girl hardly had a spare moment to herself to maintain a social life. Even Sarah’s full-time professional model friends weren’t as taxed as her roommate.

After things wound down and they got changed, the girls packed up their things in Carina’s car. It was a convertible, though it was nearly time for her to trade it in as it had been almost two years already. “I can’t believe Austin missed your competition, again,” the busty blonde criticized as she buckled in. Erika wondered what most guys would give to trade places with that seatbelt for an hour, to be nestled between Carina’s stupendous pillowy tits. Then the car started, and their drive home began. Carina kept it pretty fast; they had a lot of studying to do this weekend, after all. She picked up her phone to touch base with Austin.

“I don’t know what you see in that guy,” Carina said.

Austin glanced down at his text. “Oh hey, Carina got runner-up at the competition,” he shared aloud.

“Bully for her? I don’t know why you ever thought a girl like that would be interested in a guy like me. Or what a girl like Erika’s doing with a bum like you, for that matter.”

“Hey now, easy there,” Austin said defensively.

“Though I guess she’s kind of a butter-face herself,” Tyler teased, laughing.

“Screw you, dude, Erika’s crazy pretty—her face was what got her the attention of her modeling agency in the first place.”

Tyler nodded. It was a dumb thing to try to tease Erika about, honestly. He tried not to think too hard about his friend’s insanely hot girlfriend. “Which is all the weirder about what she’s doing with your ass,” he laughed.

“Hey, you just gotta know how to talk to girls. It’s a skill. It’s not even about what you say, it’s all about how you say it. I just turned on the charm and soon enough, bam, bitch can’t get enough of me. Head over heels, body and soul.”

Erika was getting pretty tired of Carina bad-talking her boyfriend. “You just don’t understand, Carina.”

“Explain it to me, dear,” Carina said as she breezed by a little Volkswagen.

“He’s just… he’s such a romantic. Some men just know how to talk to girls, and he’s just… mmm, such a poet.” She sighed dreamily, remembering how he’d come on to her in her algebra class.

“Damn, girl, you are one seriously hot hottie,” her poorly-groomed classmate said to her. She looked him over—not especially attractive, not well-dressed. Just confident enough to approach her, and something in the way he said it just… She introduced herself, and he told her his name—“so you’ll know what to scream tonight after our first date.” Erika had laughed—he was just so funny!—and gone along with it.

Sure enough, she had screamed it—everything he said was just so charmingly delivered that she couldn’t help but fall for him. When he nervously asked her for sex that night in the back seat of his ’03 Plymouth, she’d enthusiastically said yes. Erika had given him the first blowjob she’d ever given a boy after he told her how her lips would look great wrapped around his cock. He’d probably been joking, but she’d already made up her mind to keep him. She’d sucked him off, then fucked him until he couldn’t get it up any more. Then called him the very next day to ask him for a second date.

“I’ll grant you that, he’s a great conversationalist. He’s flirted with me a time or two, and yes, I see his charm. But still—he’s not even in your league. I mean, Erika, you’re one of the sexiest girls at the entire university, and he’s at best in the top 70%.”

“That’s an awfully specific figure, Carina. You have something to say to me? Are you asking me to choose between the two of you? Because I will always, always choose my man. He’s the love of my life!” Erika said emphatically.

“Easy there—nobody’s asking you to choose. I just… I don’t get it is all. I think you could do better.”

“Just drop it, OK? I love him, and nothing you can say will make me change my mind. Now I got my tablet here; I’ll quiz you for your exam on Monday—make good use of our time.”

“Well, what about you, man?” Tyler asked, trying to look for Melody to order another round. She was nowhere to be seen, but the bar was doing good business this Saturday night. Mostly other college guys like them, coming out for wings, beer and basketball.

“What do you mean, ‘what about you’?”

“I mean, Erika’s in love with you—do you think she’s the one?”

Austin shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s great, don’t get me wrong, but you said yourself, she’s kinda clingy. I need me some room to breathe.”

“What, you got a lot of other gorgeous, smitten swimsuit models lined up, do ya?” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Oh, and brilliant, too, just in case you felt like you were on her level in any way.”

“First off, Erika’s definitely not ‘brilliant’—some booster for the football program who tossed a scholarship at her in the hopes she’d be a recruiting tool for ’em—she couldn’t even get accepted to the school on her merit.”

“Really?” He was surprised. She’d always struck him as being rather articulate—annoyingly so.

“Yep. She hides it well in public, but let me tell you—very little going on upstairs.”

“Thanks for showing me how to turn it on, Carrie. These things are so tricky!”

“You just hit the power button,” Carina teased. Gently. Erika had always been almost as sensitive about the gap between their IQ as she was about the one between their chest sizes.

“Well ya, but like, how was I supposed to know where it was?”

“It’s the one with ‘on/off’ written next to it.”

“See? So it could’ve turned it off.”

Carina sighed. The girl was lucky she was such a stunner or she’d be eating out of dumpsters somewhere, surely. She painstakingly guided her simple friend on how to open up her class notes she’d typed up. “Just take the stuff I wrote and turn it into questions, OK? Nothing too fancy.”

Erika nodded. She could do this. Questions were just like normal sentences, but backwards. “All righty tighty, Carina the Beana. First question: explain the basic idea behind… behind… there’s a word here, but…”

“Sound it out, hon.”

“Nye… nye… nye-shuh? Nysh? I dunno. It’s a weird name.”

“Nietsche?” Carina asked.

“Yeah! Explain the basic idea behind Fred Neeshuh’s plan of… there’s another one here… nye…”

“Nihilism.”

“Wow, yeah, what you said. Hard word.”

Carina ignored the girl’s impressed look. It was commonplace during their study sessions—which were really tutoring for Erika disguised as helping Carina. (As if a girl of Erika’s pathetic scholastic talents could be of any help to her.) “There is no truth,” she began.

“Nuh uh, there are three truths. You made bullet points!”

Carina nodded patiently. “And the first one says…?”

Erika squinted. “There is no truth, only perspective—OH I SEE!” She giggled.

“Anyway, even aside from that, just because she’s a ‘gorgeous, smitten swimsuit model’ doesn’t mean she’s perfect. Variety is the spice of life,” Austin continued. “Take our waitress, Melody.”

“Her again? Bit of a step down, don’t you think? Or maybe like seven steps down?”

“Sure, she’s not as hot as Erika, but I think people would agree she’s plenty hot. Besides, girls like her are so grateful for any male attention that they’ll agree to anything when a guy shows interest in ’em.”

Tyler finally located her across the bar. Big, D-cup tits busting out of her too-tight top, mid-riff on display over two handfuls of well-rounded booty… Austin was right. She was no Erika, but still. He waved until he got her attention, and she started coming over.

“Another round for my friend and I,” Tyler said, raising his voice over the din.

“You got it, fellas,” she said. Both guys took the liberty of watching her big old ass sway away to another table on her way back to the bar, some group of frat guys by the looks of them.

“White Russian for me,” said the first guy.

“Bud Light lime and a half dozen honey barbecue wings,” said the second.

“Your number,” said the third.

“Got it,” Melody said. She flushed a little; it was always so flattering when guys took an interest in her. She quickly wrote down her number on her pad and handed it to the boy, winking flirtatiously at him just to make sure he knew she was receptive, then hustled back to the kitchen.

Melody hoped he’d call. She always hoped any guy would call.

Her manager, Frank, called her into his office after she put the orders in. He was a good deal older than the server staff, and his flirty demeanor—he tried to pass it off as Southern charm, but anybody who interacted with him twice knew better—creeped out a lot of the girls. “Stephanie called off last-minute again. I need you to stay late, sweetheart,” he told her.

“Sure thing, boss,” she said sweetly. Frank was always kind enough to check her out; she owed it to him.

He smiled back at her, and she saw her randy boss’s eyes rove over the exposed swell of her bosom. It felt nice to be noticed. Melody stood by patiently as he ogled her. “You get prettier every day,” he said appreciatively.

“Thanks!” She beamed at him, thrusting her chest forward, practically shoving her boobs up against him.

“My my, Miss Melody, you’re gonna give an old man ideas if you keep bein’ so sweet to him,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“What kinds of ideas?” she asked knowingly. She wanted to be inviting; otherwise, he might think his attention wasn’t welcome and look elsewhere.

“Well, a purty young thing like you…” he said, grinning with blossoming confidence.

Melody’s knees weakened. He thought she was pretty! Just the words were enough to nearly make her swoon—what a wonderful man she worked for! “Y-you think I’m pretty?” Maybe he’d say it again. Oh, that would be lovely. Guys said it to her all the time—she was plenty hot, after all—but it never ceased to make her swell with gratitude.

“Aw heck, Miss Melody, you may well be the purtiest danged gal in the house,” he said.

The girl’s heart fluttered. “Can I go down on you?”

Frank chuckled knowingly. This was the fourth time this week he’d suckered her into his office for a one-on-one with a little sweet-talking. “Why, I reckon you just might,” he said, placing a leathered hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her to her knees.

It was nearly fifteen minutes before Melody returned with their drinks. The guys spent time watching their team on any one of the omnipresent televisions, and when they weren’t watching that, they did some people-watching. It was a college bar, only blocks from campus, after all; one never knew when a must-see kinda girl might stop in. Today, however, they were in short supply—just lots of dude-bros coming to scarf bar food and watch the game.

“I tell ya, must be a sign out front we missed that says ‘babes need not enter’ or something—total sausage-fest in here,” Tyler grumbled.

“Relax, buddy, there’s like four sororities within a five-minute walk from Fitzpatrick’s. Those girls are just pre-gaming on the cheap shit at home so they can come out buzzed. Trust me, in a little while, this place is going to be crawling with hot sorority sluts. And you know those girls—they’re looking for man-meat, and they’re fucking pros about pleasing it.”

As Tyler imagined the wonders of being worked over by a sexy little sorostitute, Austin’s phone buzzed; he glanced down to see another text from Erika. Miss u! helpin carina get her study on, truth is a relative of this guy neechee (however u spell it lol)

Tyler, who nosily read it from across the table, just rolled his eyes. “Man, doesn’t she ever have anything interesting to say? Damn, man, it’s Saturday night and she’s out blowing you off for her gal pal. Least she could do is send you a decent sext or something, maybe a little shot from the show.”

“Erika? Fuck, man, she’s always sending me steamy pics.” Indeed, his phone’s memory was nearly at capacity from the volume of them.

“Shit, for real?”

Austin nodded, and thumbed down through the list of one he could respectfully show, settling on one of her in a string bikini, bent over with her ass facing the camera, twisted around to look at it with a saucy wink. Tyler whistled through his teeth at it. “Damn. She ever send you any of that friend of hers?”

“Who, Carina? Naw, man.”

“Damn, that’d be hot.”

“Hey, you didn’t let me finish. Carina sends me shit all on her own that Erika doesn’t even know about.”

“What! For real?”

“Yep. She’s been jealous of Erika ever since she and I started going out, and she’s a total exhibitionist. It’s why she got into modeling swimsuits, so she’d have an excuse to parade around half-naked in front of a camera. Totally gets off on it—she’s as bad as Erika when it comes to trying to get my attention with that stuff. Worse, really.”

“Well don’t be a cock, man, let’s see!”

Erika frowned and looked out the passenger window. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she grumbled.

“What’s that?” Carina asked.

The slender girl turned to face her friend—her topless friend. “THAT,” she said.

Carina just laughed, her huge, bare titties rippling with each small exhalation. “Oh c’mon, Erika, don’t be like that. It’s just some harmless fun.”

“Harmless? That’s like the third person who nearly veered off the road when they saw you pull up alongside them.”

“Harmless to us, I meant.” She stuck her tongue out. “Oh geez, don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

“If you’re going to drive home in nothing but your bikini, you could, like, at least wear your bikini. You’re, like, totally going to get us pulled over,” Erika said.

“Gee, if only we had something here in the car that we could show a nice officer that might convince him not to give us a ticket?” She tapped her lower lip pensively, then tapped her left nipple pensively when Erika didn’t seem to follow.

Erika averted her eyes again. Carina’s nipples were rock hard, like they usually were when she pulled this stunt. It made Erika a little uncomfortable. She didn’t mind being slutty for Austin, but that was different. Private. She’d do anything for him, and he’d made it clear he liked her sending a steady stream of erotic pics—which she was fine with, because she knew she could trust him to keep them to himself.

With a little shiver, she reconsidered—quite suddenly—that it’d actually be cool if Austin showed the pictures of her behind her back. Hot even. She loved it when he showed her off. It made her feel sexy.

She rubbed her thighs together, wondering if she could sneak a picture up her skirt without Carina noticing.

Beside her, Carina was thinking the same thing about her tits.

It was a long while of Austin watching the game and occasionally smirking at Tyler’s slack-jawed stare as he thumbed through Erika and Carina’s pictures. He could’ve kept going, easily—there were hundreds of them, and Tyler was clearly content to keep looking all evening. “C’mon, fork it over before you jizz all over the screen.”

Tyler reluctantly handed it back. An image of Carina was still on the screen, her legs spread wide on a towel on a white sand beach (or a set made to look like one), one hand thrust down her bikini bottoms and the other tugging on her nipple through the fabric of her skimpy top, underboob at center screen. Even Austin, who got such images fairly regular, had to pause a moment for this one.

“I tell ya, bitches like this eating out of your hand… Never ceases to blow my fucking mind, man.”

“Well, when you’re packing a foot-long King Kong schlong,” Austin explained, patting his crotch appreciatively. “Girls get one look and just lose their little heads, do anything for a ride.”

Tyler chuckled. “Sure, that’s women for ya.” Austin had always been so proud of his enormous cock; sure, it was basically a python with no teeth, but Tyler had never met someone so vain about his gear.

Austin frowned. “I’m serious, man—size matters. Lots of chicks might pretend it doesn’t to protect the feelings of their pencil-dicked boyfriends, but cock size matters more to most girls than boob size does to us.”

“Whatever you say, man. The day I see a girl go weak in the knees over the sight of a huge cock, I’ll go out and buy me a penis pump first thing.”

“Fine, need proof? Watch this,” Austin said. He stood up and looked around the bar. Like usual, it was a target-rich environment; the sorority girls always came out to Fitzpatricks in droves after a while, and they were as ever hooched up and trolling for ass. Tyler looked on as Austin approached one such girl, a slender brunette with a cute face and decent boobs, and introduced himself. There was too much noise to hear what he was saying, but after a brief exchange, Austin pointed over to Tyler. The girl looked, and Tyler waved. She waved back, looking like she was near the end of her interest in talking to him.

Then, right there in the corner of the bar, Austin unleashed the beast. Tyler watched the look on the girl’s face transform from puzzlement as he undid his button, nervousness as he lowered his fly, shock as he hooked his thumbs in the waist of his briefs… then rapture as he tugged them outward. Tyler read her lips uttering a “holy shit” and she kept staring at his crotch even as he sealed it back away. Austin didn’t even spare a backward glance as he swaggered back to the table, fully confident that the girl was following him.

Which she was, a desperate expression on her face.

Austin sat right back down at the table, then patted his lap casually. The girl slid right down, wriggling her hips right down on his crotch. “Convinced?” Austin said to Tyler as the girl started rubbing a hand over his chest.

“You must’ve slipped her a $50 or something,” Tyler said. The girl didn’t even look at him.

“What’s your name, sugar tush?” Austin asked her.

She sighed happily, like he’d said something poetic. “Daphne,” she said breathily. “Can we go somewhere? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Austin chuckled; this was a normal enough thing. “Nah, I got a girlfriend, Daphne, sorry.”

She pouted. “Pleeeease? Come on, just a quickie? I’ll be so good to you, I promise You’ll forget all about her!”

He shook his head, giving her a gentle nudge on the hip to get up. She resisted, and took his wrists in her hand and slid them up her shirt from underneath, resting firmly on her little breasts. “See? Come on, I’ll give you anything you want, just let me have it! Your friend can watch if you want, whatever—just please, baby! Please!”

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Daph,” Austin chided, though he left his hands where they were.

“I don’t care, I just need your cock in me—I’ll do anything for it, just give me a chance,” she pleaded, though she did blush. “I’ll make you forget all about your girlfriend, just fuck me!”

“You haven’t seen his girlfriend, obviously,” Tyler commented from the sidelines. “Hot-ass bikini model, basically lives for his cock.”

“But she’s not nasty like me, I bet,” Daphne said. She turned and lifted the bottom of her shirt, revealing a little tattoo a few inches wide just above her ass. It was a red heart with little green vines surrounding it, poorly done.

“Eh, that’s nothing—you should see the shit Erika has done. Not even artsy like yours, it’s just…” He started to describe it, then figured he may as well just show them, and got out his phone. Perfect timing, in fact.

Erika grinned at herself, pleased. Austin always seemed to like it when she sent him a few naughty pics when she was on the road, so she’d had Carina pull over at a gas station so she could “use the little girl’s room.” She did have to go, but mostly, she wanted to give Austin a little thrill. She hoped he was making up the migraine and was actually out with his buddies—she knew how he liked to show her off. One time she’d found him using her pictures as stake money for an online poker game; she’d nearly creamed her panties on the spot.

That was why she’d gotten her little tramp stamp, after all—she’d known it was love early on, from the first time she’d seen that huge fucking cock of his on their first date. Before the third, she’d already gotten the work done, and she’d guessed just right. Austin wasn’t the kind of man who wanted some poetic Chinese character or a tribute to a beloved relative.

No, he’d want something slutty. She’d been sure of it, and the way he stuffed her tight little pussy after she showed it to him, she felt vindi… vinnie… she felt like she’d been super smart. It had been tricky with her modeling career, having a two-inch cursive DTF across her pubic mound, and it meant she had to keep it constantly shaved to be able to display it. But truer words were never inked—where Austin was concerned, Erika was always Down To Fuck.

Harder still had been concealing the similarly sized DTAF tat above the crack of her butt. Almost as hard as getting Austin in there in the first place—but she did love to try.

Daphne had been unimpressed Erika’s timely pic, which looked to be a low-quality selfie shot of her bare ass taken using the mirror in a restroom. “You wanna see some ass? Come back with me to the sorority house, I’ll show you anything you want.”

“OK, that’s seriously enough, scram,” Austin said, bucking her. With a few last ditch pleas, the girl trudged away sullenly. She took a seat at the bar and kept looking over at Austin longingly. He didn’t bother making her feel even worse by showing the picture Carina had sent of her standing around topless, pumping gas.

Melody came by with another round; sweet girl, but she spent so much time letting her customers grope and leer at her that it was making her slow to respond. “So, you satisfied now?”

“You proved me wrong, what can I say. Doesn’t do me much good closing the deal—not that I’m a dwarf or anything, but still, we can’t all have giant porn star cocks.”

“Well, let’s see what we can do. C’mon, Fitzpatrick’s is practically a pussy buffet tonight. Let’s see if we can get a good vibe from someone.”

Tyler joined Austin in scanning the crowd. It was tricky—there were so many hot girls in here that he had a difficult time finding anyone who might be in the same league as his own lackluster physique, and he said as much dejectedly.

“Come on, man—two hot, ripped studs like us can have our pick of the litter.” He’d meant it ironically when he said it and Tyler had almost rolled his eyes at the absurdity, but instead he just set his chiseled jaw in a scowl. Tyler spent twice as much time at the gym as he did in the classroom, and he didn’t like having his efforts to buff up mocked. Austin should know—he was just as addicted to the weightroom himself. You didn’t get to bench three hundred pounds without a lot of hard work.

“Fine,” Tyler responded to his friend’s suggestion. “What about her?” he said, pointing to a pretty blonde girl at the bar.

Austin made a face. “Nah, that’s a trap.”

“How do you figure?”

“Look at all the giveaways—fishnet stockings, obviously looking for attention. Sitting alone, which means she doesn’t have any friends to hang with. Three empty glasses next to her, so you know she’s been hitting it hard. Put that together, what do you get?”

“A lonely desperate drunk college girl?” It sounded like a great place to start to him.

Austin waved a hand. “No, man—it says she’s needy. One of those girls who latches onto the first guy to talk to her and has nothing to distract her so she just makes herself his whole world. Throws herself into him completely, can’t handle things on her own any more other than being the perfect little girlfriend. Real helpless type,” Austin said sagely.

“Oooh,” said Tyler.

“Anyone sitting here?” the guy asked her. Casey had been waiting for a friend—which was stupid, because she didn’t have any—so now she supposed it was. Better yet, here was someone who could sit in it. A man! Talking to her! Finally.

“You are! Please, sit down. Please.” She smiled brightly, tried to casually undo her top button. Then another, just to be safe. One more, just so her bra was showing.

He settled in, though other than a little glance over at her now much more visible breasts, he ignored her. “Can I buy you a drink?” she said before he got distracted elsewhere. Too eager. Still. She needed this.

“Um, sure,” the guy said, a little surprised. The drink was enough to engage him in smalltalk and ask him some leading questions; his name was Carter, and he was a business major. Casey just smiled and nodded as he discussed his future plans; it didn’t matter what he said —he’d spoken to her, and that was all she needed to know. He had acknowledged her lonely, needy existence.

“How about you? What’re you studying?” he asked pleasantly.

“Me? Oh, nothing. I’m dropping out, actually.” She realized it as she said it. What business did she have in school? Casey couldn’t handle classes, or big books. She was totally incapable, and she knew it. She’d just come to college to get her M.R.S. degree.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Carter said. “So what comes next, do you think?”

She smiled brightly, vacantly, at him. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not really good at anything—”

“Oh, come on now, I’m sure you’re—”

“Except making men happy,” she finished over him. How sweet of him to try to make her feel better! She should give him a blowjob to thank him. (Oh, who was she kidding. She was going to do that anyway.)

“Is this some kind of prank?” He looked nervous.

“Sorry if I’m coming on strong, but I just need you to make me whole. To fill my holes.”

“To…!” He almost did a spit-take.

She put her hand on his knee and gave him a sweet smile. “Can I take you back to my apartment and suck your brains out through your cock? Or your apartment, whichever you like. Then maybe you’ll let me make you dinner, and then maybe you could titty-fuck me? I see you keep looking at them. I think that’d be great.”

“Um, OK… Casey, was it?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” She put his hand on her ass, to help him guide her, and sauntered out of the bar.

“OK, how about that one?” Tyler pointed to a redhead having a smoke on the sidewalk out front.

“Her? No way—I had a class with her sophomore year. Total whore, trust me.”

Jessica tried to collect herself; it had been a really long few weeks ever since Michael had dumped her. Her roommate had talked her into actually going out with some friends and friends of friends; she’d been doing well until someone mentioned his name. Not even the same Michael—just another guy with the same first name. She only smoked when she was drinking, but right now it was a good excuse to go outside and have a little cry away from her friends’ prying eyes. They were good to her, and she didn’t want them to have to feel bad for her.

She was huddled near a building to keep out of the chilly evening’s wind, trying to let her tear ducts have their moment while she finished off her cigarette. Jessica was bundled up in her comfy purple coat and a thick sweater beneath it, with a little hat Michael had gotten her last winter that looked like a penguin. Suddenly, a stranger cleared his throat behind her. She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she turned. There was Allen, Elise’s buddy that she’d been trying to set her up with. He was handsome, in a bland kind of way. Dockers and a polo shirt? A little formal for her.

Or maybe, it made him a potential John, she suddenly decided. Clean-cut, well-mannered—he’d have cash on hand for sure, and guys like that were gentle, no chance he’d rough her up or the like.

“Can I get a light?” he asked politely.

“Sure,” she said. “That all you’re after?” Jessica undid the belt on her thin coat, letting it hang open. A cheap red dress that barely covered her ass awaited his eyes beneath. It matched her hair nicely—but mostly, she wore it because it was cheap, and trampy.

For most guys, that would’ve been enough of a signal, but Allen just gave her a once-over and politely looked away as he lit his own cigarette from her lighter. Menthols. What a pussy. She forced her professional smile, lips twisted up at one side wryly. “Um, I’m not sure what you…”

“You like what you see?” Jessica thrust her chest out. His eyes were drawn to it—one born every minute.

“Uh yeah, you’re, um, very…”

“You wanna party?” She didn’t have time to exchange pleasantries. It was Saturday night—peak hours for business. Allen the square stared uncomprehendingly. “Do. You. Want. To. Fuck. Me,” she said, enunciating clearly so the moron could figure it out.

“You’re serious?” His cock twitched in his tight little slacks. Good.

“$50 an hour, $300 for the whole night,” she said. “Best money you’ll ever spend.”

“Jess!” he exclaimed. “What about our friends? Won’t they wonder…?”

“They know the score—girl’s gotta earn a living. You in or you out, baby?”

Allen paused, then flicked his cigarette to the curb and ground it out with his shoe. He reached for his wallet. “I only have $20’s…”

Jessica sauntered over and deftly plucked four $20’s out of his wallet, placed them in his hand as she guided it down her top, helping him to a copious feel of the money-makers. “What, you don’t believe in tipping?” Teasingly, she sucked his fingertip into her mouth. She planned on emptying that wallet tonight.

“Um, my place or yours?” Allen asked in a tremulous voice.

She grinned and jerked her head to the nearby alley. “My place’ll do just fine.”

“How ’bout her? The Asian chick, on the end.”

“You and your yellow fever, man. Surprised you didn’t pick her out earlier.”

Tyler grinned. “What can I say, the divining rod points where there’s wetness, right?” He fondled his manhood in his meaty fist. “So what do you think? Do I got a shot?”

“You know how all these Asian college girls are—she barely speaks English, I bet.”

“Does she have to?” Tyler joked.

Austin laughed. “Yeah, I guess she’s good to go as long as she’s seen Full Metal Jacket—all the vocab she needs, right?” The guys shared a chuckle.

Izumi—Michelle, as her American friends knew her—finished her drink and waved their waitress over to get her bill. She wouldn’t be getting much of a tip—she paid way more attention to her male customers, and frankly, was being kind of a slut. Presently, she was too preoccupied by showing a group of drunk guys she could do the splits (even on the dirty bar floor) to even notice Izumi, so she just went up to the bartender.

After he finished getting another girl a drink, he came over to her. “What can I do for you?” he asked courteously.

“Me love you long time,” she said. She frowned. Not speaking English was incredibly frustrating sometimes. Still, this should tell him she wanted to engage in commerce.

He looked surprised, then said something back. Gibberish, to Izumi’s ears. She tried one of her other phrases. “Suckee suckee five dolla? Me so horny,” she said, drawing out the ‘r’ sound. She thought she was saying it right, but the man just frowned and said something else, then walked away. Izumi didn’t know what to do. She wanted to pay her tab, but didn’t know how many suckees and fuckees it cost. To be trapped in a foreign country and barely speaking the language like this…

A man tapped her on the shoulder. He was smiling in a familiar kind of way, and said something to her, which she of course didn’t understand. “Got girlfriend? Me so horny,” she said by way of introduction. “Me love you long time,” Izumi said. She turned and flipped her skirt up to confirm she wasn’t wearing any panties.

He gave a response, and between his facial expression and his use of a few words she recognized—“ten dollars”—she recognized she was negotiating. She wiggled and plumped up her pert breasts, hard nipples denting her thin shirt outward. “Suckee suckee? Me love you too long.” She bobbed her head in a blowjob motion to help him understand. She was worth fifteen dolla, easily.

They haggled back and forth—he wouldn’t go above five, and she didn’t want to settle that low. Luckily, the man had a few friends! Izumi made thirty dolla in the alley behind the bar (keeping a close eye on the other whore working her turf) sucking and fucking the lot of them, one after another. And then a couple at the same time. She left the cash at her table, and hoped it wasn’t much of a tip.

As they kept going down the list of ladies, Austin talked him out of one after another. He had a good eye for these things—called them like he saw them, and he saw them pretty clearly. There was the cute little brunette with the #feelthebern t-shirt who, as Austin had said, revealed herself to be a hairy-lipped fatty when she turned around; the sweet-faced blonde who was actually a gold-digger, and she broke up with her boyfriend of three years right there in the bar; the blonde bimbo whose IQ was a number lower than her bra measurement who literally started drooling out of one side of her mouth; the prissy uptight prude whose shit didn’t stink, who had a bizarre experience in the women’s room a little while later.

No sir, it was not looking good. Both of the guys were pretty buzzed by now. “To think I was hoping to meet a woman here tonight,” Tyler said sourly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, buddy. Hey, look back there.”

He looked. In the dimly lit back room was a group of all girls sitting around a table—then as he focused, he saw they were all girls but one, the stand-out being a uniformed cop who was already in the midst of stripping off his uniforms. There were muffled squeals of delight from the girls as he straddled one girl’s lap, gyrating his banana hammock in her face.

“Yeah, so?”

“Bachelorette parties are full of horny chicks, man—every bitch sitting around that table’s got nothing on her mind but the horrors of lifelong celebacy. Especially the fuckin’ bride-to-be.”

“Yeah, but you can’t just walk into a reserved room, at a private function, and start hitting on girls.”

Austin scoffed. “Maybe you can’t.”

“Whatever. I don’t care how smooth you are, the bride would toss your ass out in a heartbeat.”

“Oh yeah? I go in there and show her what she’s missing out on,” he fondled his bulge crudely, “and that bitch will be bent over and begging for it. Bet ya ten bucks it doesn’t even take me five minutes.”

“You’re on, dickhead.”

With the hired stripper’s junk up in her face—and with all her best friends watching—Sara’s face was positively on fire with embarrassment. She’d never done anything like this before, never even set foot inside a strip club much less had some gigolo’s pelvis wiggling around in her face. It was all very awkward, but she was happy to be indulging her friends’ perverse sense of fun. After all, tomorrow was hers and Tim’s big day, and with all the support and positivity they’d shown her, she’d suffer through ten strippers for them.

Not that she wasn’t quietly dreading the thought of never fucking anyone but Tim ever again. He was the only man she’d ever been with, and had always been the only man she’d ever thought she wanted to be with… only now that that was becoming a reality… She shuddered.

Still, she loved him with all her heart; they’d been in love since college, and after a long, three-year engagement, it was finally time to tie the knot.

For the moment, however, she was just plain hot; the bar was toasty, and having that big hunk dancing all over her had been almost as bad as the embarrassment. She excused herself to the restroom—and bumped right into some guy, a tall, rock-hard mountain of beefy muscle. “Excuse me,” she said. Sara went to go around him, but he stepped to block her path. She tried the other way, and he did it again. Accepting it wasn’t just awkward timing in their mutual efforts to get around one another, she paused with a sigh.

“You don’t need an excuse, baby,” he said, grinning.

“Look at me, Conan,” she said testily. It was her party, and she was in no mood to be hit on by this musclebound douche canoe. She held up her engagement ring and waved it in his face. “See this? This is an engagement ring. It means I’m going to get married. Tomorrow, in fact. To a man I am very much in love with.”

“Oh yeah? Well let me show you something,” he returned. She couldn’t believe her eyes as he opened up the front of his pants right there in the corner of the bar!

And… holy SHIT. She couldn’t believe…

The most perfect cock she’d ever seen. She had to have it.

“Oh wow… I’m… I’m… I’m so sorry!” She took her hand down, plucked the engagement ring off roughly. “I was, um, just kidding about the engagement. I wear it sometimes just to keep away the bad ones. Not hunks like you.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to bullshit me, babe. I saw you in there having your bachelorette party. Just thought you might like one last little bout of fun before you hang up your hat.”

“Oh, I would, I would!” Sara insisted, far too eagerly. Whatever. She didn’t give a fuck. If eagerness got this guy’s cock in her, she’d do it. She’d do anything for it.

“Well, you sure are a horny little slut,” he said. This was true. She loved cocks; she was ready to fuck one at the drop of the hat. Her pussy juiced up so easily her friends called her Jiffy Lube. “What say we give you the dicking you seem to need so bad?”

Oh thank God, finally—she’d worried this total stranger want to talk for minutes and minutes yet before fucking her! She turned around and bent over, waving her ass at him in its skintight leggings. “Oh yes! Fuck me! Please, please fuck me! I’ll do anything for a good fucking from your big cock!”

“Maybe not right here in the corner of the bar,” he said, chuckling at her forwardness.

“Ladies’ room!” she cried, and practically dragged him down the side corridor that lead to the restrooms. He let Sara tug him along in her wake, and the second they were in the bathroom, she didn’t even hesitate before bending over the sink and pulling down her leggings and panties. Her juicy cunt beckoned to him, waving side to side as she tried to entice him into her. Are we alone in here? She didn’t hear anyone. Oh, who cares, just fuck me already!

“So, what’s your fella’s name?” he asked as he shed his own pants.

“Tim. Please, please fuck me!”

“Tim must be all kinds of excited to have a girl like you, kinda girl who doesn’t care who sees what a slut she is. He’ll probably wanna thank me for breaking you in, eh?” the man chuckled. “Speaking of, I bet a friend of mine I could fuck you—do you mind if I take a quick video? Got $10 riding on this.”

“Sure!” she said. What did Sara care who saw this? She just needed his cock, and there was no point being shy about it. Oh, and to be thoughtful, she added, “would you mind sending it to Tim? He really likes seeing me slut it up—and what’s sluttier than being fucked by a total stranger in a dirty bar bathroom the night before your wedding, right?”

She gave him Tim’s phone number, and he politely obliged. “Poor guy’s never gonna be able to get it up again once he sees my cock fucking his fiancee,” he said.

“Probably. Fuck me? Pleeeease?”

“All right, all right. Smile for the camera… what’s your name?”

She giggled, having practiced this answer a thousand times in recent months. “Mrs. Timothy Beckstein.”

JoAnna strode off after her friend in a huff—right past some massive jock who looked like he was watching a porn video on his cell phone. Pervert. This was so typical of Sara; that slut couldn’t keep her legs closed for half an hour it seemed. Still, JoAnna had promised she’d keep her honest on this of all nights, and she meant to keep her word. Sara was probably just using the bathroom, but… couldn’t hurt to be sure.

She could hear them fucking through the door. So much for just using the bathroom. JoAnna pushed open the door and strode in frostily.

There was Sara, bent at the waist, moaning and panting as some hulk drilled her from behind. This was far too familiar a sight—though it wasn’t at all uncommon for her bachelorette friend to be getting her holes stuffed by way less hot guys than this. She was obviously enjoying it, judging from the blissful, slack-jawed semi-conscious expression on her face.

She cleared her throat loudly. Then again. The third time she just loudly said, “ahem!”

The two turned. Sara waved awkwardly. “Hi, Jojo!”

“Sara, what the fuck are you doing? Get off that dick right this second! You’re getting married tomorrow! What the hell is wrong with you, you goddamn slut!”

With a little frown, the guy turned around, his glistening cock sliding out of Sara’s pussy—well-stretched pussy, now. Holy fucking God in heaven. That is the most perfect dick I have ever seen. “Well hiya, Jojo.”

“Um, hi. Can I fuck you? Just real quick, I promise you I’ll be fast. I’m a virgin,” she added. She’d meant to stay one until marriage, but fuck that. This cock was made for her.

“No!” Sara blurted selfishly. “He’s fucking me. Get your own cock.”

“But I want it! You already had it, and besides, you’re going to get fucked tomorrow night after the wedding! I won’t get fucked for years yet, probably!”

“Tough titties.” Sara stuck her tongue out—then dropped to a crouch and started licking her juices off the man’s cock.

The bickering continued as JoAnna joined her friend on the floor. Sara’s pussy tasted… pretty good, actually. Decent. Maybe it was just the way this perfect cock naturally tasted. They were still taking turns convincing him they were the better cock-sucker (not that either had any interest in sucking him, but if that lead to him fucking them…) when the door opened, and in walked Rebecca and Rachel, each wearing the same annoyed expression JoAnna herself had been when she burst in here.

Then they saw the cock, the perfect cock, and their jaws just dropped. Rachel was practically drooling.

“Good thing my girlfriend is so understanding… it looks like we’re gonna have to have try-outs,” the man said. JoAnna nodded—whatever it took—and tried to be the first one to be naked.

Tyler was about to pack up and go by the time his friend finally returned. “Fuck, Austin, I thought that bitch drowned you in there or something,” he said grouchily.

Austin sidled back into his seat with a self-satisfied expression. “First off, don’t be a hater. It doesn’t suit you. Second off, it’s not ‘that bitch’—it’s ‘those bitches.’ Maid of honor and a couple bridesmaids decided they needed a piece too.”

“What? You just had a fucking orgy in the bathroom with an entire bachelorette party?!”

“Sure did.”

“Heh. Guess that makes three and a half disappointed ladies.”

Austin grinned at his friend’s teasing. “Whatever. You know I got more stuff in the pipes than I know what to do with. Lucky for me, girls consider it a badge of honor to get a little dousing.”

As if to confirm his boast, Tyler saw the women in question walking unmistakeably bow-legged back toward their party room. Each of them had what looked like a half pint of cum blasted all over their faces; he could see a couple of them whose clothes were also obviously soaking it in when they got dressed. They grinned brightly at Austin and waved, one of them mouthing “call me” and the others nodding agreement; Austin rolled his eyes like he was embarrassed to have it known he’d fucked them.

The two girls wearing skirts had his spunk visibly oozing down their thighs.

“You’re fucking gross, man.”

“And you’re $10 poorer, man.”

“Yeah, except you just sent me video proof of you cheating on Erika, and I know her phone number.”

“You’re not gonna send it to her. First off, if you do, no more fun-time pictures of my slutty girlfriend and her besty for you, my friend. Second off, you know as well as I do she’d just get turned on by it.”

Tyler shrugged. “Fair point. Man, I can’t believe whore you landed.”

“Hey now—she’s not a whore, she’s a slut. Comes from up-bringing, you know. Now Erika’s mom—there’s a real whore.”

Several time zones away, Barbara rubbed at weary eyes. It was Friday evening and she was doing over-time. Again. Mr. Slater never appreciated the lengths she went to around the office, and it wasn’t even the first time today she’d thought about turning in her two weeks. It was probably just the exhaustion talking, she reasoned. She didn’t hate her job, even if she didn’t really like it.

Besides, Erika depended on her to help pay down her college. It was just so expensive, and Barbara had never managed to save enough when her daughter had been younger. Now she was working 50-60 hours a week to help her through it—but a worthy sacrifice. Her daughter was… simple, sure, but she was kind, and dedicated. Maybe, just maybe, if she could finish college, she’d have something to fall back on.

Heaven knows she couldn’t count on that awful boyfriend of hers, she thought as she shut down her computer and excused herself to the restroom before heading home. That boy Austin, he was no good—always taking her for granted, cheating on her with her friends (and strangers too, no doubt). Which was to say nothing of how he’d pressured her into such risque career choices, posing in ever-skimpier outfits. They’d been quite the sensation around her office when they first emerged; she’d been almost too embarrassed to show her face.

“Three minutes!” yelled her manager into the bathroom.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be right out!” she said. Barbara—or Bunni as they knew her around the club—hated how freely Mr. Slater treated the girls’ dressing room. She was hardly in the mood for it tonight—at the start of her shift, she was as tired as if she’d just got done putting in a full day’s work. She inspected her tits in the mirror—not at all bad for a woman her age—and smudged on some of the glue that would hold on her booby tassles.

This was the annoying part of her job—the stripping. She’d be on stage, busting her ass and giving herself arthritis on that damned pole, all for a few fives and twenties from the horny jerks who were too cheap or stupid to ask for the real thing. It was chump change—hardly the kind of thing that would cover her plan to get implants, much less help Erika finance her college degree. Even with that scholarship from those sleazy football boosters, she still had to eat.

Heaven knows she was too stupid to land a white collar job, but hopefully she’d at least be able to be a secretary. Or a trophy wife. Something respectable like that.

The stripping was good advertising, and a solid show always meant she’d have more guys willing to shell out for a good time in the back room. There weren’t many gals her age at the club, but Mr. Slater was more interested in willingness than desireability, and besides, she was still pretty hot. Her pussy still fetched $200 and her mouth $100, and she got to keep around half after tipping the bouncers and giving Slater his cut.

Bunni sprinkled a little glitter on her boobs, to make them pop better in the club’s multi-hued lighting. It would itch a little and wind up getting everywhere, but…

“You’re on, Bunni!” She didn’t bother smiling—no one would believe it, and nobody cared if she was happy. Her tits jiggled and her body was for sale.

The things—and the people—I do for my daughter!

The guys settled into a new table; the bachelorette party girls kept staring at him (and the bride kept touching herself openly while she did so), and it was unsettling. From here, they’d be out of sight.

“Ya know, as lucky as you are with girls, Austin, I can’t believe none of it rubs off on me.”

“Well, what’d you expect, man? Bars like this, sure, the girls are all top-shelf hotties, but they’re only in here to get their holes stuffed, plain and simple. They don’t want love, or relationships, or anything meaningful—they just want sex, all the fucking time, sex, sex, and more sex.” It was true, too—for the rest of the night, they didn’t see a single girl go home by herself. In fact, they saw a few guys leave with a girl on each arm, giggling and juicing up before their eyes.

“I just wish I could find myself a girl like Erika, you know? I mean, she’s crazy about you, and she’s so fucking hot. I mean, those pictures, man… shit, she and Carina should be porn stars, not bikini models.”

Austin smirked. “Who said they’re not?”

“Bullshit!” When Austin’s smirk didn’t fade, Tyler pounded the table in frustration, his heavily muscled arm nearly cracking the table top. “That’s so unfair! How did you ever find girls like that?”

“Well they weren’t porn stars when we met—but they obviously liked posing like little sluts for me, so I just said, while you’re at it, why not make some money? It took some sweet-talking, but I wore ’em down. Here, look.” Austin opened a web browser on his phone, and opened up one of his bookmarked pages. There it was, dozens of links—hundreds, maybe—to photo shoots of the girls taking off their countless bikinis, videos of them masturbating, stripping, posing in every lewd way one could want.

Tyler just browsed through, dumb-founded. “They do hard core?”

“Sure, but only if I’m the cock,” Austin said. Sure enough, Tyler scrolled down and there were the pictures of the girls bent over, their pussies straining to accommodate his mammoth cock, mouth split wide around it, tits wrapped around it… Carina’s tits were, anyway—Erika’s were hardly big enough to make a tunnel for the goliath, though there was also a shoot of her taking it up the ass from him, just as her rear tattoo promised.

He politely didn’t comment on the volumes of photos of both girls covered in Austin’s cum—sometimes both together. Austin must not’ve been exaggerating his claim; either he really had enough in the tank to coat both girls’ faces, fill their mouths, coat their tits and still have some left over to trickle out of their pussies, or he had a team of guys on hand to jizz on them for him. Possessive as he was, Tyler was sure it wasn’t that.

He sighed longingly. “You must pay them pretty damn well for this.”

His friend grinned. “Erika does it to make me happy—lets me handle all the finances, and I just give her a stipend.”

“And Carina?”

“Nah, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Austin leaned in. “I don’t pay her a cent. I took all those slutty little pics she was cock-teasing me with and told her she’d have to pitch in on our site, or I’d make sure they found their way into other people’s hands, people she respected… I just have this hanging over her head, and use it to make her do whatever I say.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” Tyler said dryly.

“I’m telling you, she gets off on it—she won’t come out and say it, but she does. Being my powerless little porn star slut.”

“Bullshit, man.”

“I’ll prove it.” He took his phone back.

Carina and Erika had finally arrived back at their apartment after an exhausting drive. Carina didn’t even know why they bothered with these childish swimsuit competitions—the money was shit compared to their website, and it was such a drain on her precious time when her studies also squawked constantly for attention. She knew Erika did it just to make Austin happy, so he could go on bragging that his girlfriend was a swimsuit model like he loved to tell anyone who would listen. Carina… well, she did it to hold on to a part of her life when her pictures had been voluntary. And at least semi-clothed.

Now, it seemed her entire career was an endless sea of fucking and sucking. She remembered when Tyler had first suggested it to her; she’d laughed the suggestion off. That sort of thing could ruin her career! Then, he’d pulled out that cock of his and she’d lost her mind over it. She’d been so desperate to get it in her that she hadn’t cared that Erika was filming it.

The next day, he’d shown her an email he had typed up; the addresses were all familiar. There was her adviser in her master’s program, several of her friends from back home, her mom and a half dozen other family members… The email had no text; just Carina’s name in the subject line, and a video attachment entitled “begging for dick.”

“I can hit send,” Austin had said, “or you can put on that outfit and we can do another shoot. One your people don’t have to see.”

She never told him how much of her wetness had been from knowing she was helpless for him. He could take away everything with the click of a button, and she couldn’t stop him. She had no choice—so none of it was her fault. She could be a cock-sucking, tit-fucking, pussy-stuffing dildo-riding ass-licking cum-slurping facial-loving, smiling whore—and not feel an ounce of guilt over it.

It was so fucking hot she juiced up every time she thought of it.

Tonight, the girls were slumped down tiredly on the couch half-watching a Sandra Bullock movie, worn down from a day of competition and travel, when Carina’s phone buzzed. It was Austin, with an odd text. What do I pay you. Be honest.

She frowned. You pay me in silence, she texted back. She hoped he did, at least. There was nothing she could about it if he didn’t.

Erika looked over and saw Austin’s name. “Aw, is that Austin? Tell him I said hi and that I love him and I miss him,” she said adoringly.

Carina ignored her as she read his quick response. And how do you earn it? he responded quickly.

By doing whatever you want, she said. Erika looked over and read the exchange; simple girl that she was, it took her a moment.

“He’s such a cutie,” she said, sighing dreamily.

Carina wanted to slap Erika, for being turned on by his extortion scheme over the girl’s best friend, but… well, she understood. It was so fucking hot. She hated Austin for using her like this, but goddammit it made her horny out of her fucking mind.

“I guess you weren’t kidding,” Tyler said. He drained the rest of his beer, then got out his wallet and slapped down a fresh $20 on the table. “Well, I suppose that’s it for me tonight. Maybe next time, some of your luck will rub off on me. Tonight, I sleep alone.”

Austin, drunk enough to be a little touchy-feely, patted his friend’s shoulder consolingly, squeezing the bulging muscle in his mighty grip. “Don’t be so down on yourself, man. Any of these girls would consider themselves lucky to take you home with them—you’re the find of a lifetime. They’ll be throwing themselves at you.”

Across the bar, a few dozen pairs of eyes took note of Tyler.

“How about you?” Tyler asked as his friend put down money for his own portion of the tab. They hadn’t seen Melody in a long time, ever since she’d been lead outside smiling by a group of guys that were clearly not old enough to be in here. Fuckin’ freshmen. “Off to give Erika the business?”

“We’ll see—the night’s still young,” he said with an impish grin. They exchanged a quick bro hug, their huge, muscular frames thudding loudly as they bumped chests, then they parted ways.

Tyler headed for the bathroom before he left; by the time he got out, Austin was gone, and a group of a dozen smoking hot sorority girls were waiting for him.

Tyler blinked in surprise as one of them stepped forward and spoke. “Hello, sir. My name’s Lana, and I’m the social committee chair at Delta Iota, and, well, we were wondering… would you like to come home with us?”

“Pleeeeease?” the other eleven voices said in needy, wanton unison.

Austin didn’t bother knocking at Erika’s apartment; he just strode right in. There the girls were sitting side by side on the sofa; they both looked up at him as he came in, exhaustion evident on both faces. They may even have been sleeping before he came in. “Evening ladies,” he said.

Erika smiled, her heart fluttering at the sight of him, her hulking brute of a man, layered with muscle packed on more muscle. Before she could even get up, he slumped down into the couch between them, placing a casual hand on both girls’ thighs, caressing them possessively. Erika loved it when he handled her like that, but it always frustrated her when he showed Carina such attention. She loved him, but it was ever a reminder that she needed to try harder to make him love her back.

Worse, she thought, that Carina didn’t even seem to like it. Erika knew about their arrangement, the extortion and all, but far from ruining their friendship, sharing Austin’s dick on and off-camera had somehow only strengthened it. Carina frowned at his casual groping, and hoped neither of them could smell her pussy starting to juice up at being treated like his choiceless plaything.

“How’s your migraine? I was super worried about you,” Erika said, her ditzy voice gushing concern.

“Oh, um, it’s fine, just fine.” He’d forgotten making that excuse up. “So, what’s on the agenda for tonight, girls?”

“We’re exhausted, Austin. Don’t get any ideas.” Carina’s voice was stern, even as she squirmed to move his hand farther up her thigh.

Austin looked to Erika, who shrugged helplessly and confirmed her roommate’s words. “It’s been a really long day,” she said apologetically.

“Cool, cool.” He suppressed a frown, made all the harder by the lame-ass chick flick on the screen. “Well, I’ll just hit the hay early then.” After a lengthy good-night kiss from Erika, he stood up. “Oh, and girls? Say good night to Mr. Dangly.” Austin lowered his pants, his monster cock already at half mast.

In an instant, the girls were wide awake, but Austin just started walking away. Erika felt her pussy flood in an instant at the sight of his huge, veiny cock; from the sudden worshipful expression on Carina’s face, she knew her friend was feeling it too. What girl wouldn’t? She stared after him in a stupor as his pants slowly fell to his ankles while he walked, then he stepped out of them, his powerful glutes blocking sight of his dick.

“Um, Austin sweetie, can I like, come to bed with you?” Erika asked. “We could fuck!”

“No, let me come!” Carina pleaded. “Pleeeease, Austin?”

Erika panicked. “No! Carina, he’s my boyfriend, he should fuck me!”

Carina scoffed. “If he’s ‘yours,’ why is he always staring at my titties?”

Austin held up a hand. “Erika, come here.” With an exultant grin, she leapt up and ran over to him, throwing off her shirt on the way, lowering her shorts and panties immediately after. Austin casually rubbed her DTF tattoo with his thick fingers as she quivered with lust.

“Carina… crawl to me.” Carina glared—she knew he liked it when she glared, when she pretended she didn’t love every fucking second of this—and slid off the couch to her hands and knees. She too shed her top, her huge tits swinging beneath her as she shimmied over to him. At his feet, she knelt submissively, still glaring, and pressed her titties against his leg. She craned her neck and extended her tongue to try to touch it to his cock—it was so close!—and he stopped her with a finger on her forehead.

Then he slapped her in each cheek with it by way of reprimand. It was the best slapping she’d ever received. Her cheeks glowed where his perfect dick had touched them.

“Austin baby? Um, like, which one of us are you going to fuck?”

He smiled at Erika, his sweet, sexy, stupid, submissive, smitten slut of a girlfriend. “Erika, you should know by now—I got stamina enough to fuck both of you all night long. The question you should be asking,” he said, stroking her chin affectionately, “is which of you is going to earn it first.”

The girls wasted no time. Carina practically unhinged her jaw taking his monster into her mouth and sucking him to hardness, working to maintain the disapproving look that she knew turned him on so well. Erika stroked her friend’s hair as she sucked and just contently kissed Austin, her perfect, wonderful man, the love of her life. She wanted his cock, and she knew in time, she would get it, even if he fucked Carina and a dozen other girls in the meantime.

Erika kissed him, and as his tongue worked into her mouth, she felt like it was maybe just as good.