Seven Day Boy
by Limerick
SATURDAY
“Honey, the doorbell,” Brianne said. She was frozen in front of the bathroom mirror. Lipstick or no lipstick? Lipstick was de rigeur, but it also meant: here was a cocksucker. Brianne was really hoping her dinner party could rise above a suckfest. On the other hand, her lips looked so naked, even plump and thick as they were. She compromised on a very mild pink.
Michael had been talked into nice pants and a button-down shirt. Brianne wore a blue print dress that toed the line between past-classy and current-slutty. It was a demure navy with a subtle pink pattern on it, but of course she now had two huge tits stuffed into it, and had to slit the waist to let her ass breathe.
She affixed hoop earrings. Her gold necklace already hung between her boobs. She had emptied Michael out a half-hour ago and felt reasonably steady.
“Okay, dinner party, dinner party,” she told herself, determined. This was going to go well. This was going to be sophisticated.
“Wine is so cheap now,” Samantha’s husband Victor said, once they were all seated. The men wore the same pants, as far as she could tell. Husband dockers.
“Demand plunged,” Samantha said. Brianne gave the tagliatelle a stir, in the kitchen. She had a glass of chardonnay, and sipped it, determined. First drink in a month that wasn’t either water or fresh squeezed.
“Demand shifted,” Michael corrected. The girls giggled.
Samantha was a grad school… “friend” wasn’t quite right. A school acquaintance. She still had bits of punk left on her big new body. An upper arm tattoo that was slightly stretched, streaks of bright pink in her mildly blonde hair. Polka dot dress, also in navy. And, defiantly, no lipstick at all.
“We’re the new blend,” Victor said. He already had thinning hair, deep eyes. “Not a bad exchange, right? No cork, don’t need a glass, and I am personally a 28-year-old vintage. Well-aged.”
Brianne flushed. It was very disconcerting how extremely attracted she was to him. She had steeled herself for this, warned herself that girls the world over were now designed to breathe deep around any new male, bathe in their scent, and generally make themselves available. But desire was just so fucking personal. She had huffed Victor’s scent of mild vanilla and was now very wet.
“No cork?” Michael said. “Victor, we’re far too much cork. These poor girls, the things they have to do to us.”
More girlish giggles. Brianne hastily plated dishes, drizzled the salad with vinagrette. No doubt Victor had a long, thick cock, filled with bright white cum. Obviously, of course. Samantha was eyeing Michael, getting to know that scent of clean, cut wood that Brianne had sucked off to so many times.
“Dinner’s ready!” she called, cheerful.
It was tough, not to mention rare, to be a one-man girl. Since the beginning Brianne had taken her new libido and her curvy new body and gotten all her jizz from her husband, and no one else. She had learned everything about his dick, knew exactly where he liked to be licked, knew to the second how fast she could make him jizz. Knew that if she blew him when he got home—and she always blew him when he got home—he’d have a bedtime round for her. Had swallowed pint after pint of Michael, knew his scent so deeply she could tell what room he was in by sniffing.
It had already been lonely, working on her thesis during the day. Now the 9-hour stretch from his goodbye suck to his welcome-home blowie dragged on and on. Work on the paper was at a total standstill, had been since the nanos hit. Brianne watched TV, did her nails, checked the time, checked traffic, watched the weather. Dressed herself with impeccable care, watched porn on the internet. When he had to work late Brianne simply laid on the couch, frustrated and disappointed. Had thrown herself in to preparing enormous, intricate dinners, then sucking him while he ate.
And now she was ready to suck a man that wasn’t her husband, in front of her husband. What was WRONG with her? Brianne chastised herself. But that didn’t stop her body from lubing up, her pussy dripping wet, her nipples painfully hard. Her mouth ached.
“This is great,” Samantha enthused. “It’s nice to have a reason to use my teeth again.”
“I miss needing teeth,” Brianne said. She forced herself to eat. “Are they going to open the campus soon?”
“No, not after the first attempt,” Samantha said. She shook her head. “Vincent had to rescue me. It was a barnyard. Those poor co-eds. There should be some sort of law, mouth okay, vagina off limits. We’re all off the charts fertile now.”
“Fertility goddesses,” Vincent said. He smiled. Brianne gripped the fork tight.
“I don’t feel like a goddess,” Samantha complained. “That would mean a man on his knees before me, not always the other way.”
“There’s definitely going to be some new religions,” Michael said.
“You men have no idea,” Brianne said. “It’s like…” words failed her. As they so often were. “It’s super intense,” she said.
“I like the smells,” Samantha said. “You guys are fun to sniff now. Lots of fun. Not just sweat and more sweat. Now it’s like, the most awesome carpentry—” she tried to cut herself off, couldn’t. “It’s great,” she finished. Michael looked at his plate.
The men exchanged a look. “Are any better than any others?” Vincent said, deliberately mildly.
“No,” Brianne said, too quickly.
“So.. variety doesn’t matter,” Vincent finished. “I mean, not that it… matters.” He fidgeted with his ring.
“Well it… I mean you think… there’s definitely... “ Samantha said. She was looking directly at Michael, now. “You know. Variety. Sure. Interesting.”
They paused to eat, thoughtfully. Brianne fought a real urge to stick her leg, under the table, into Vincent’s lap, and figure out how big his dick was. But it was hard to fight. At a deep level nothing she could think was going to make a difference whatsoever. They were trading pheromones and hormones and scents at a fundamental chemical level, their libidos fully aware of who was a female and who was a male, and who they could fuck. It was silly to think she could be a girl and not eventually suck an available new cock, not eventually get cum spurted down her throat.
“Well, it hasn’t been BAD, right?” Michael ventured. “You know. All the stuff. You girls look amazing. There’s that.”
Samantha and Brianne exchanged a look. Men. “Want to trade?” Samantha suggested.
“I mean, I’m not saying men didn’t get the best of the bargain,” Michael said. He twiddled his fork. Both of the men were dealing with massive hardons. It was taxing to talk to a girl this long without jamming a prick into her mouth. “I’m not saying that at all. I couldn’t… I mean.. I appreciate the oral service, really. I do.”
“Thanks,” Brianne said dryly. They all laughed. Well, the men laughed. The girls couldn’t seem to do more than giggle. Some sort of weird aspect of it all.
“Darling,” she hummed, at her husband. “I get essential nutrients out of your penis, now. I have penis dreams. Penis thoughts. Penis penis penis. Now, I’m not saying I don’t love your cock. I do, I worship it. I think on it almost all the time. There is nothing better than having it in my mouth, that’s true. It’s just a little…” she searched for the word. It had been a long speech. The dinner party had served its purpose, and now she was feeling the ache.
“Demeaning,” Samantha suggested.
“There you go. Not to mention,” she decided to branch out once again. “It’s literally fighting all sorts of biology to stay focused on one just penis.” There, she had suggested it.
Vincent raised a tentative glass of wine. “Well… then… here’s to monogamy?” he said.
The girls actually managed to guffaw.
They came to the same realization at the same time. They didn’t know—they didn’t know! Brianne had known Michael was cheating on her with some office floozy since day fucking one. They thought they were sly in their mid-day sucks! They had no clue their wives could pinpoint nearly to the minute the last time dear hubby had gotten his rocks off. Could smell faint traces of some rando girl on hubby’s dick.
The boys had priceless expressions on their faces.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Samantha wheezed. She squeezed Brianne’s hand. “We get it, really. That’s just what it is. It’s who we are now, right?”
“Right,” said Brianne. She looked around the table. “Dessert?” All their hormones and pheromones clicked into place. Everything had been arranged. Their bodies were ready.
The girls slid underneath the table. Brianne felt at complete ease, unzipping the fly of her friend’s husband. The penis that popped out was no more and no less than she had imagined, a very capable prong with a brand new scent dribbling out of it. She drooled right before glomming on to it. Behind her, her friend cooed over her husband’s dick. It’d be interesting to see who came first. It’d be even more interesting to see what the boys were looking at, on top of the table. Vincent started to move his hips. His dick poked at the back of her throat. Semen spurted out. Brianne felt her thoughts get cloudy, hazy. “Good dinner party,” she managed, before the first orgasm washed over her and reduced her to grunts.