Asarotica

by Asa Akira

Perfect! My plan was coming in to action right before my demon eyes. I went to freshen up: baby wipes, lip gloss, mints. I snuck out the back door.

  I took an Uber to their house. As I approached, I realized I hadn’t quite figured out what I was going to say to get this party started. I had a feeling I was not the first girl who had done this, and I probably wouldn’t be the last. With confidence and maybe some liquid courage, I texted Tristen to come grab me. He said his dad was home so we could just go to his room. I told him I had the chance to meet his father at the party and would love if we could all have a drink together, suddenly realizing he wasn’t even of age and chuckling to myself. Tristen led me to Ethan, who greeted me with a surprised look and smirk. He came over and placed a kiss on my high cheekbone. I don’t know if it was the alcohol talking or my hormones raging, but I whispered in his ear, “I want you both.” With that, I led them by each hand to the living room and kissed Ethan. Then, without missing a beat, I turned and kissed Tristen. I was so intent to get their cocks stiff.

  Just as I started to panic that they might have small ones, I calmed down by telling myself that God couldn’t have created two such sexy specimens without giving them eight-inch dicks. I reached down over both of their swim trunks and gave their packages each a firm squeeze. All my anxiety disappeared; not only were they huge, they were hard as rocks. My pussy was sopping wet and I couldn’t help but rip down their shorts and shove their massive dicks in my mouth. I swirled my tongue around Ethan’s member first; he was older, so I felt I needed to honor his seniority. While my hands were still wrapped around Tristen’s member, I urgently shoved his dick deep inside my mouth until it hit my throat. I needed this moment. Then, without thinking, I spit all over Tristen’s balls and continued to stroke Ethan, back and forth, back and forth. I couldn’t stop myself. It was like the best porno I had ever seen, except I was the star. I suddenly wished I had a video camera, or at least been filming with my cell phone so I could watch my amateur performance later—but I was quickly jolted back into the moment and ready to get fucked.

  I pushed Tristen down onto the couch with ease, as if this crazy event was second nature to me. I sat on his dick and then asked him if it was okay. He was in awe, looking like this was both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him. I continued to dirty talk with Ethan. I stared into his striking eyes and gave him a blowie while I rocked all around on Ethan’s stiff member shoved up inside of me.

  This is heaven, I thought.

  The boys seemed so aligned, so in tune with my body. They kept fondling me and touching my huge tits and bubble butt with their manly hands. Ready for a change, I jumped off Tristen’s cock and jumped in front of Ethan who took me from behind and pounded away, while Tristen watched me get fucked … by his dad. I stroked Tristen’s huge cock as he looked into my eyes with a face of an angel. He was perfect. As soon as I reached my orgasm, I got down to my knees and led Ethan with his cock in my mouth to the couch.

  It was time for the pièce de résistance—double penetration.

  I whispered, “Let’s go the bedroom.” As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, Ethan threw me over his broad shoulder and spanked my ass firmly. So firmly, in fact, I knew it was going to leave marks. Tristen followed and tugged on my hair and, once we got to the bathroom, they both shoved me down as if they were about to devour their prey. Like a Planet Earth documentary where the male lion is about to devour his antelope.

  It was clear who was in charge here, as Ethan ordered Tristen to lay down. He eased my ass over his dick, fingering it first before spitting on his hand and pushing it in. Once my second-favorite hole was filled with Tristen’s throbbing cock, Ethan ravaged me—aggressively shoving himself, no lube, into my little cubby hole as if he was punishing me for springing all of this on him. As they moved in and out, I couldn’t help but consider if we were disturbing the neighbors, I moaned so loudly. I was the most filled I had ever been and I was ready to cum almost right away. The build-up was so intense that there was no way around the arousal. I came all over both of them as they both creamed themselves inside me, filling me like a Twinkie.

  I was so enchanted and overwhelmed, I could barely put together a single word. I eased myself off, as Tristen and Ethan pulled themselves out of my newly stretched vag and ass. I could feel them internally; they had worked me. I was spent and after taking a deep breath, passed out right there in the thousand-thread-count, navy blue Egyptian cotton sheets.

  When I awoke, I was in my own room.

  Had it all been a dream?

  I went through my purse and found my phone. There they were, the texts to the boys. And the Uber receipt.

  I walked over to the full-length mirror in front of my bed. Damn, I’m hot, I thought as I turned around and arched my back, taking a moment to appreciate my perfectly disheveled bedhead hair before looking down at my ass, and there it was …

  … a perfect little bruise.

  BECKY.

  BY ANGELA WHITE

  I climb on top and think of Becky.

  I close my eyes and I can see her big, fat stomach sweeping across your belly button as she moves up and down on your cock. Her paunch hangs so low that there’s never any space between your body and hers. Becky is always touching you.

  I would have to bend my elbows and lower my torso for you to feel my little middle. But Becky doesn’t have to. She can stay up high on her hands and knees and her big belly will still spill down and blanket you.

  It must feel so nice to have her soft fat enveloping your sides, like she’s melting over you. It must feel sublime to have her plush hips and meaty thighs cushioning your every thrust. It must be exciting to fuck someone so different from me. It must feel so much better than fucking me.

  I wish I was Becky. I bet you really give it to Becky.

  I bet you want to unload as soon as she lowers her fat cunt onto you. I bet you struggle to hold onto your cum from the very second her chubby lips wrap around your shaft. Maybe even before that.

  Maybe you only have to see that well-padded pubic mound and you’re ready to pop.

  But you don’t.

  You don’t want to cum too quickly for Becky. You want to impress Becky with your stamina. You want to make sure you fuck Becky long and hard.

  I bet your testicles ache as you try to resist your approaching orgasm.

  I hope your nuts hurt as you put yourself out for Becky, as you hold it all in for Becky, as you struggle on for Becky.

  Your eyes are closed. Are you thinking about Becky?

  I grind my hips onto you. I try to bear down hard and heavy. I try to crush you like Becky’s massive, hulking body does. Becky can get that cock of yours balls-deep inside her. Becky’s hefty frame drives your prick in further. I want your dick that far up me. No matter which way I twist or turn, I can’t make myself heavy enough. I’m not heavy enough. I’m not enough.

  I want Becky’s weight on me. I want Becky’s enormous rolls of luxurious blubber, her pendulous breasts, her big fat belly, her plump ass, her thick thighs, her chubby ankles.

  I want Becky.

  I want Becky to climb on top of me and squash me down onto you. I want to suffocate under the weight of Becky’s bloated tits. I want Becky to sit her pudgy ass on my face. I want her fat to tumble down the sides of my cheeks so I can’t breathe.

  I want Becky to flatten me. Trample me. Pulverize me.

  Becky is so pretty. Do you love Becky?

  I bet you put it in her bare. I bet you fuck her raw. I bet you shove your uncovered cock into her unprotected pussy lips. You stuff that fat sausage into Becky’s hungry holes, don’t you? You feel all the soft, fatty bits of her and she feels every hard inch of you. You press into the fleshy sides of her organs. You know how Becky feels on the inside.

  You stick that dick deep inside Becky. You fuck Becky bareback.

  You don’t give a fuck about how that makes me feel. You don’t give a fuck about me.

  It makes me so angry. It
makes me red-hot angry. It makes my clit burn with anger. It sends a sharp, hot, angry pain through my chest and down into my pussy. My cunt is throbbing angry.

  I keep grinding.

  Can you feel my hot angry pussy?

  I hope it clenches down until it crushes your cock. I hope it gets so tight it chops it off. I hope my pussy gets so inflamed it starts to burn you. I’m getting close.

  Your hands grab at me but you can’t get enough flesh. Becky has more than enough flesh. Becky has ample flesh. Becky has excess flesh. Becky is flesh.

  You give up trying to grab my flesh and just focus on my nipples. You twist them between your thumb and index finger. You tweak them. You yank on them. You squeeze them far too hard. But it doesn’t hurt as much as Becky.

  I can feel you getting close for Becky. You’re using my body. Using me endlessly. Every stroke is for Becky. You want me to be Becky. You’re imagining I’m Becky. You wish I was Becky. I wish I was Becky.

  Go on, give it to me. Give me Becky’s cum.

  My pussy throbs on your flaccid cock as your phone buzzes.

  I bet it’s Becky.

  You reach for your phone. I get up and look in the mirror. I’m naked except for the cum and the sweat and the shame.

  I’m sort of cute. But I’m not Becky.

  Becky has big voluptuous hips and thighs. Becky has an hourglass figure. Becky has massive breasts that jiggle when she fucks. Becky looks like a real woman.

  I’m not even a reflection of Becky.

  I stand with my legs hip-width apart and focus on the warm cum and blood slowly leaking out of my cunt. Trickling down my inner left thigh. Dribbling over my knee. Sliding over my calf. Pooling near the arch of my left foot.

  You’ve disappeared. You’re out of earshot.

  You’re flirting with Becky.

  One last pinkish-gray glob is oozing from my inner labia. I stare at it, waiting for it to splat onto the hardwood floor between my legs.

  It’s not heavy enough.

  The glob is growing. But it’s never going to be heavy enough. It’s just dangling there, mocking me. I gyrate my narrow hips. I wiggle back and forth. But I swivel too aggressively. It hits my right inner thigh and holds fast. I try to flick it off with my index finger but it sticks to my nail. So I bring my finger to my lips and I eat the snotty-textured blood-soaked cum globule.

  I swallow Becky’s cum. I gobble up Becky’s cum, blended with my blood.

  I head to the bathroom, stuff a tampon into my snatch and sit down to pee. I watch as the piss clings to the tampon string and then streams down into the bowl. I look up and you’re at the bathroom door that I always leave open, no matter what I’m doing. You would be disgusted to find me staring into the toilet bowl except that you’re used to it by now. You’re used to me by now.

  You mutter something about a colleague needing a hand.

  You’re the worst liar.

  I’m used to it by now. I’m used to you by now.

  You abandon me to go and see Becky. You leave me to clean up the mess. You leave me.

  You leave me and I rip the bloody sheets off the bed so that you don’t have to see them. So that you don’t have to face them. So that you don’t have to deal with them.

  You hate when I bleed on you. You hate when my insides come out.

  I grab one corner of the sheet and shove it between my legs to soak up the leftover piss. Then I move back to the mirror to wipe up Becky’s now-crusty cum and my dried-up blood from the floor. I walk over to the laundry. Put the linen in the machine. Turn the dial to Heavy and select the Soak option. For heavily soiled items.

  I start sifting through the rest of the dirty laundry. Sorting the clothing into piles of light, dark, and delicate. I sniff every filthy item before I throw it into a heap. It makes no difference to the way I sort. I just like to sniff shit.

  I can smell Becky. Her scent is heavy. I can smell her perfume. I can smell her sweat. I can smell her pheromones. Becky is all over your clothes. I bet you love Becky’s stench. I bet her aroma intoxicates you.

  The washing machine whirls. But not hard enough for me to sit on top of and cum. It’s too modern. Too new. You like new things. You like novelty. I bet you’re already playing with your new toy. I bet you’re doing all the things for Becky that you used to do for me. All the things you used to do for me until you got too used to me.

  I bet you’re really giving it to Becky.

  I lay back in your filthy clothing. I am surrounded by the heavy scent of Becky, while you’re surrounded by heavy Becky.

  I gently tug on my tampon string. It springs back into me when I let go. I keep tugging at it so that the little cotton plug rubs my pussy from the inside. It’s a light sensation. It’s not enough.

  I use my other hand to tease my clit. It’s already engorged and throbbing. The scent of Becky is sending sharp hot pains into my stomach. The hot pain hits me in the gut. The hot pain hits me in my cunt. The hot pain pulses through my veins. You’re twisting up my insides while you’re twisting inside Becky.

  I’m tugging on my tampon string while you really give it to Becky.

  I sniff at your dirty tees. I try to inhale them. I shove your boxer briefs in my mouth and suck on your ass sweat. I hope your cock has leaked into the front. I hope I’m sucking on your old piss and discharge. I hope I’m slurping up the precum you had for Becky. I hope that I’m sucking on crusty bits of Becky’s cum.

  I keep tugging on my tampon while I rub my clit and suck on an old pair of your scrunched-up shorts.

  I bet you have Becky bent over. I bet you’re holding onto her rotund hips for dear life as she pushes her porky body back onto you. I bet her gigantic tits are swinging wildly under her tubby arms. I bet Becky looks perfect.

  Becky is perfect.

  I tug too hard and my tampon goes flying. I replace it with my fingers and start pumping my knuckles inside. In and out and in and out. I slam my fingers in harder. I want it to hurt. I’m sucking at your salty pungent undergarments and rocking my pelvis into my palm. My clit is sore and swollen. My nipples are aching. My heart is aching.

  My pussy is getting tighter. My chest feels heavy. I can’t even breathe. I’m going to cum. I’m going to die.

  I want you to really give it to Becky.

  My orgasm crashes down on me. My muscles clench and release hard and fast for what feels like minutes. The contractions send fresh blood spilling over your clothing.

  The metallic stench is not heavy enough to overpower the scent of Becky.

  For a moment, everything is quiet. My mind is finally quiet. Even the washing machine is quiet. Quietly cleaning my sheets.

  For a moment, I forget about your lies. I forget about how angry I am. How hurt I am. How embarrassed I am. How turned on I am.

  I take in a slow, deep breath. But her smell is suffocating me.

  I need some fresh air.

  I pick myself up and walk towards the back door.

  I walk outside.

  Into the rain.

  It is heavy.

  CHAMELEON

  BY APRIL FLORES

  Camila had been single for a few years now. She had become the type of woman who prided herself on being a happy, unattached person. The first time she heard the phrase “fiercely independent,” she knew it would be how she would identify herself in the future. As most single women do, she had curated a stable of handsome men she would keep around for physical connections and sexual releases when she was in the mood.

  Sometimes, while she was in the shower or stuck in traffic, Camila’s mind would wander, and she would find herself considering if she wanted anything more substantial. A more traditional relationship. But big-city dating had worn her patience thin, and she would inevitably conclude that having a handful of reliable, casual guys she could call on was as essential as paying the rent on time and doing the laundry.

  It was a basic life skill.

  Tonight, she was feeling particularly horny, which mad
e Camila think she would be ovulating soon. Tonight, she was craving Julian. Tall—six-foot-two—with a substantial body that was neither fit nor unfit, Julian was a beautiful man. A photographer with the chiseled face of a model, he had long dreadlocks and a golden-brown complexion, both of which Camila had always loved. Most of all, Julian was strong and this turned her on. She texted him to see if he was available to see her that night.

  When selecting her group of suitors, she was sure to include only men who were respectful of her time—appreciative of having the pure privilege to fuck her—and she knew Julian would text back within the hour. If he wasn’t available, she rationalized, she could always watch her favorite porn and use her Hitachi to get off. Sure enough, Julian responded promptly, letting her know that he was in the middle of a photoshoot, but that he would love to see her that night. They agreed on his place.

  In spite of her laissez-faire attitude, Camila felt a wave of excitement, knowing the ecstasy that awaited her. She put on a full face of makeup and styled her hair. Having had many artists as lovers, her visual presentation would be as stimulating for Julian’s creativity as her tight, wet pussy would be for his cock. Camila’s body was soft, ample, and curvy. She loved wearing tight garments that hugged and showed off the weight she carried with confidence and satisfaction.

  Camila knew the exact dress she would wear for tonight’s encounter. The black cotton/spandex blend that could be dressed up or dressed down, depending on the shoes and accessories with which it was paired. Expensive, but considering how much mileage she had gotten out of it, the dress was worth every penny. It hugged and accentuated her curves and cradled her breasts in the most flattering way. She knew she wouldn’t need to wear a bra or panties tonight.

  Julian lived in a nice, quiet neighborhood; the kind that she would never consider living in—too suburban, too out of the way, and much too mundane. Still, upon her arrival, Camila eagerly made her way to the front door, where Julian greeted her with a big smile and a hug. She took enjoyment in the fact that he was so much taller than her. She loved tilting her head all the way back to see his face, which was still smiling down at her. It was late, so they dispensed with the small talk that had become a part of their routine when they met up. Still, she couldn’t resist observing Julian’s work displayed on the walls as he led her by the hand down the hallway. The fact that she liked his work made him even more desirable.