Chapter Eight

Lance was decidedly more anxious on his second visit to Kira’s kitschy abode.

Glancing suspiciously at the audience of garden gnomes and plastic flamingos crowding the front yard, he felt like their lifeless eyes were judging him.

He’d dressed up for the occasion, though anything was an improvement over the grease-stained overalls and a sweaty tank top that comprised his previous outfit.

Khaki slacks hugged his runner’s legs—lean, powerful thighs and calves earned from endless training sessions—while a dark button-up hugged broad shoulders and a torso more solid than most track athletes could boast. Brown leather loafers, only slightly scuffed, completed the look.

Not flashy, but clean. Presentable.

Dare he say respectable?

Lance only knew he badly wanted to make a better impression this time.

Because Kira had sure impressed him at their first fateful meeting.

He’d hunted her down online, of course. She hadn’t been difficult to find.

Kira Bubblez was a moderately popular cam girl and adult content creator with profiles on all the major subscription platforms. She had a JustFans page featuring tasteful nudes, plus a cheeky bio that proudly listed “size queen” and “toy play” at the top of her kinks.

Lance had actually paid for access—using some of the funds she’d sent him for services rendered—and spent way too many late nights whacking off to clips of the uber-curvy ebony goddess cramming alarmingly large rubber phalluses into her sopping snatch.

He wasn’t naive or stupid enough to mistake his feelings as anything but foolish infatuation.

However, cold logic made for a poor defense against raging post-pubescent hormones, and a big-bootied pornstar torn straight from his horniest teenage dreams who rode his bucking bull-dick like a rodeo cowgirl.

And now, standing on her doorstep with those damning images looping through his head, he was getting hard. Again.

“Knock already, dammit,” Lance told himself. “She’s not going to eat you.”

Fist hovering in midair, he hesitated. Then the door flew open, revealing a short yet lavishly proportioned redhead, scantily attired in shockingly brief denim cut-offs, a straining green tube top, four-inch spike heels, and a cheeky grin. A series of colorful, botanical-themed tattoos ran from her shoulder to her elbow like a spring bloom.

“Um, hello?” Lance stammered, caught completely off-guard.

Eyes the color of old dollar bills shone beneath long fake lashes, practically molesting him as she gave him a once-over.

“Hoo-wee, girlfriend didn’t oversell you one bit!” The busty stranger leered lecherously. “Ten outta ten, sugar. Golly, ain’t you a tall glass of dark and handsome?”

Stunned, Lance’s jaw hung slack. He glanced about, double-checking his surroundings, but there was no mistaking Kira’s gaudy lawn decorations.

The redhead leapt to his aid, literally bouncing forward to seize his elbow and haul him inside.

And bouncing was the keyword.

Her ripe, hourglass figure easily rivalled Kira’s in sheer audacity, and she seemed equally unconcerned about hiding it with lush hips, a waspish waist, and fat tits that defied gravity. She kicked the door shut behind them, twisting just enough to flash him a glimpse of big, globular ass cheeks spilling out the backside of her tiny Daisy Dukes.

Within seconds, she had Lance’s arm couched in her cushiony cleavage.

“Huh? Sorry, who–” Lance began.

“Can’t keep you waiting outside catching flies.” The redhead spoke over him, ushering them down the entry hall. “Kira’s organizing refreshments in the parlour–don’t worry, she told me everything. I’m Gina. Pleased to meet ya, and you’re Lance.” She shot him a lascivious wink. “I’ve heard a lot about you, hot stuff.”

Gina hugged him closer, wrapping her pliant, barely contained tits tighter around his bicep while stealing unsubtle peeks at his trouser region.

Stiff nipples poked insistently through the razor-thin boob tube, irrefutable proof that she’d foregone a bra that day.

The lump in his slacks lurched, eliciting a delighted gasp from the southern short-stack.

“Not too much, I hope.” He yelped, fighting to keep his cool when she groped his butt.

“Aaaand here we are!” Gina sing-songed, propelling him through a side door. “Darlin’, your Prince Charming has arrived!”

Lance’s breath hitched.

Kira straightened from the low coffee table, where she had been arranging a pitcher of iced tea and three glasses. Seeing him, she smiled, bright and radiant as a sunrise.

Honestly, she was even more dazzling than he remembered. Her flawless ebony skin, those straight bleach-blonde tresses framing her gorgeous face, that irresistible sexual magnetism… it hit him like a punch to the heart.

“You… you’re here.” Her gentle voice held a coy lilt. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

Staring at Kira, Lance realized that this was his first time seeing her fully dressed.

“I said I would.” He murmured, a tad awestruck. “God, you look amazing.”

She’d poured her luscious self into a teensy pink baby tee, artfully ripped leopard print leggings, and towering black platform heels. Every article appeared painted onto her rich, round contours like a second skin, technically protecting her modesty while hiding absolutely nothing.

Daddy’s Girl was printed across her baby tee, the glittery silver lettering warped and distended by the copious titflesh beneath. Her overstuffed shirt rode high, exposing a swath of flat midriff and a severely pinched waist, leading Lance’s ravenous gaze down to her flaring hips, meaty thighs, and showstopping booty.

His cock unfurled at the sight of those glorious buns–huge, hefty, and perfectly peachy–stretching the leggings to their absolute limit.

“Thanks,” Kira cooed, blushing adorably. “You clean up nice, too.” She gestured to a couch. “Won’t you sit? I made tea.”

Lance was momentarily at a loss.

It seemed like a completely different woman was standing before him.

While this Kira appeared physically identical to the bodacious goddess who’d popped his cherry and unleashed an insatiable monster, she lacked the supreme confidence of her previous iteration, seeming almost shy in his presence.

“Awww, y’all are cute as hell,” Gina declared, shattering the tension with cheerful glee. She squinted at a small rectangular card in her hand. “And look at this—it’s his birthday! February twenty-seventh, right here in black and white.” She winked at Kira. “He’s nineteen today, darlin’. You’re in the clear.”

Lance’s gaze snapped to the redhead. She dangled a battered leather wallet in one hand, waving a driver’s license in the other.

His driver’s license.

“The fuck?” He yelped, hands flying to his pockets. Empty. “How did you—?”

“Gina!” Kira cried, horrified.

“Relax, hot stuff, we ain’t rollin’ you,” Gina giggled, swaggering up to Lance on swinging hips. She tucked the wallet back into his belt line like she was tipping a stripper. “Just coverin’ our bases, yeah? Gotta be sure we’re not cradle-robbin’.”

Pressing in close, she snaked fingertips across his prominent bulge, tracing its outline.

“Mmmm, outstanding.” She purred. “Seems girlfriend wasn’t spinning tall tales ‘bout you after all.”

Thunderstruck, unsure what to do, Lance looked past the diminutive redhead at Kira, silently begging for rescue.

“Why don’t we all take a seat and relax?” His blonde Venus suggested. “Pump the brakes, Gina. He’s here to chat, remember?”

Internally, Lance offered a fervent prayer of thanks for the endless empathy of women.

Gina, however, wasn’t buying it.

“Aw, but I wanted to pump somethin’ else,” She teased, a dainty hand gripping his stiffness possessively. “Somethin’ harder. Whatcha say, birthday boy?”

Lance mentally amended his prayer: Scratch that—damn women’s licentious appetites.

“I could… take a load off.” He croaked, throat dry. “Shit’s gotten weird. My head’s been all screwed up since… you know. People keep giving me these looks—like they half-recognize me but can’t place why.” He winced at how pathetic it sounded. “I just really need someone to talk to. Someone who understands this… stuff.”

“Oh, big guy.” Kira was the picture of compassion; the tension in her posture melted like ice in a blast furnace. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to carry this alone. What happened was an honest mistake, but I still feel responsible. I’ll help in any way I can.”

“She means we’ll help in any way we can,” Gina chimed in brightly, shoving Lance toward the black pleather couch. “Two-for-one hottie special—total bargain!”

He fell on the squeaky cushions with an oof! She snatched up a drink and hopped into his lap, her plush posterior settling side-saddle around his hardness.

“Here, drink up,” Gina cooed, pressing the chilled glass to his lips. “Then spill what’s buggin’ ya. Don’t be shy—we’re seasoned vets. We’ve seen it all, been there, done that… got the wet T-shirt to prove it.”

Given a choice of swallowing or being waterboarded with tea, Lance chose the former while the bottom-heavy nymphette grinded shamelessly on his crowded crotch.

“I-I figured.” He spluttered once she eventually let him up for air. The cold drink actually steadied him a little. “How do you manage it? How do you… fornicate online, then just go about life knowing someone might recognize you?”

“Fornicate?” Gina burst out laughing, playfully smacking his chest. “Honey, we ain’t nuns and this ain’t confession. Y’all fucked, plain and simple.”

Kira shot her a sharp glare, which softened when she turned to Lance.

“To answer your question, it comes down to numbers and scale.” She said, offering an affectionate smile. “Sure, I’ve got over three hundred thousand followers—that sounds huge. But it’s worldwide. And fewer than one percent pay for live content.”

“Also, the sites I–we sign with,” she frowned at Gina rubbing against him again, “have strict privacy protections. Factor all that in, and the odds of randomly bumping into a fan in public are astronomically small.”

“Just keep your trap shut, and you’re safe. Tell folks you earn thousands online using one simple trick, then watch ‘em run for the hills.” The lusty shortstack giggled, plucking at his shirt buttons. “Plus, birds like us are uncommon fare. Skinny bitches with fake hooters hog the limelight. Us big-boned gals? We only attract the finest connoisseurs.”

Lance nodded—or tried to—while swatting away Gina’s wandering hands.

The idea that either of these shapely sirens could be anything but streamer superstars was inconceivable to him. However, the feisty redhead’s well-upholstered heiny sandwiching his trouser tent while her mountainous melons smooshed against his pecs turned rational thinking into a Sisyphean endeavor.

His woody had graduated to a steel girder, valiantly attempting to break free from its khaki confinement.

“I guess that computes.” Lance managed. “It’s just that—Gah!”

He yelped as Gina unbuckled his belt with escape-artist speed, nimble fingers darting inside to wrap around his solid shaft.

“Jesus—fuck! What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She growled, a feral gleam in her eyes as she gave him a single languorous stroke. “Checkin’ out your equipment.”

Lance’s bones turned to jelly. A low groan escaped before he could stop it.

“Gina!” Kira shot to her feet. “This isn’t what we discussed. Daddy—I mean, Lance, asked for our help.”

Daddy.

The word lingered in the air. Lance’s gaze snapped to the glittery D-A-D-D-Y stretched taut across her baby tee. The letters danced as her heavy cleavage jiggled from the sudden movement.

His cock flexed mightily in Gina’s grip.

“Talk, talk, talk,” she grumbled, unzipping his fly with her free hand. “Y’all can yap all you want, darlin’. I’m gettin’ mine.”

Before anyone could object, the spunky redhead levered her prize from his slacks where it sprang up like a coiled serpent, slapping meatily against the undersides of her beefy buttocks with a resounding thwack!

“Christ on a cracker—you really are a monster!” She crowed, craning back to admire it. “I could ride this beast like a damn broomstick.”

To prove her point, the incorrigible redhead clamped her succulent thigh gap around him and bounced a few times—denim cutoffs rubbing against his shaft with rough, arousing friction. The discomfort barely registered; every hop sent her bountiful tits jiggling inches from his face, hypnotic and impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry about this, Lance,” Kira said, drifting closer to hover at the edge of the couch. “Our work demystifies sex for most people. You’re more than a novelty—if that’s any comfort. Think of this as… a professional handshake.”

“I… okay,” Lance groaned, voice cracking as Gina’s hand reached back to fondle his swollen tip. “I’ll try.”

“You’re gonna do more than try,” Gina snarled, baring her teeth in a crazed grin. “Show me how well you wrangle this hog, hot stuff. Spread those knees. I’m divin’ in for a taste.”

So warned, Lance complied, and she slid off his shaft to crouch between his shoes, not loosening her stranglehold for a second.

Kira settled on the armrest with a sigh, one leopard-printed butt cheek snuggled into Lance’s shoulder. She gave him an encouraging smile, combing her fingers through his shaggy curls. Scents of coconut oil and her perfume enveloped him.

“We can still chat, if you want.” She husked, nails drawing soothing circles across his scalp. A low, lion-like purr rumbled from Lance’s chest. “Was it just the apprehension, or was something else bothering you?”

“Awww, yeah–check out these nuts.” Gina snickered down below. Dainty hands hoisted his sack as though weighing the contents. “Two fat plums, jam-packed and beggin’ to be tasted. Yummo.”

Lance almost jumped when she did exactly that–suctioning a throbbing testicle between her plump lips to suckle like an infant with a pacifier while lazily pumping him.

“Oh–Oh god… um,” He floundered to speak as electric bliss crackled through him; coherent thoughts scattered. “Uh, there were… a few other things.”

He floundered to form a coherent sentence. Kira wasn’t blind.

“Yes, I know. Gina excels at oral play,” She admitted dryly. Was there a hint of jealousy in that statement? She quickly pivoted. “I hope the payment isn’t an issue. If you’re worried about taxes, it can be written off as—”

“Not the money!” Lance squeaked as Gina switched to the other nut, rolling it on her wet tongue before slurping it in. “Money’s good. Sooo~ fucking good!”

His leg spasmed, kicking out involuntarily, sending an only slightly scuffed leather loafer ricocheting off the opposite wall and landing in a plastic houseplant.

It looked like a fern.

The fiery-haired cock-goblin took her sweet time shining Lance’s family jewels. Her silky-soft grip glided up and down his rocky root, coaxing out his plentiful precum.

Sticky seed bubbled from his bulbous crown in great white globs, streaming down to slather her dextrous digits.

“There it is,” she crooned smugly. “So much already. Ain’t you a treasure? Now don’t blow your wad till I say.”

As if to test him, she dragged her tongue in one long, slow stripe up his ludicrous length, gathering a messy mouthful which drooped from her chin.

Then, staring him dead in the eye, she tipped her head back, gargled his gloopy load like mouthwash, and swallowed—throat bulging visibly with the effort.

Lance’s other foot lashed out, neatly depositing his remaining loafer in a magazine rack.

“Something else?’ Kira prompted, snaking an arm around his broad shoulders and leaning over until her heavy hooters rested on his spinning skull. “Ignore Gina, Daddy. Focus on me. Tell your good girl everything.”

Ignore Gina? Oh, yeah–the green-eyed monster was definitely making an appearance.

And the prospect of ignoring Gina was laughable as the ravenous redhead practically unhinged her jaw to hoover in his turgid tip. Cum-glossed lips formed an airtight seal, and she began bobbing her pretty head at a breakneck pace, eagerly gagging herself on his girth.

“Hurk, ach, urg!”

The position she’d assumed–squatting on her thick haunches, bent over his lap–gave Lance a sublime view down her hunched spine to her queen-sized caboose. That particular pose shaped it like a ripe pear. Lifting and rounding each eminently grabbable glute a mere hand’s breadth above her perilously high heels.

Lance found the sight more entrancing than any scene his lust-drunk imagination could conjure.

“Daddy? Did you hear me?” Kira’s concerned voice shattered his horny fugue.

Her hand caressed his chin, firmly guiding his bleary gaze to meet hers through the valley of her cavernous, vision-obscuring cleavage.

“Huh? Oh, um…” Lance scrambled, piecing together their recent conversation–a difficult proposition given the endorphins swamping his brain. “Something else, yeah. That’s right! I-I… fuck, she’s really good at that… I had a weird run-in with my coach today. ”

The words left him in a rush before a realization that Kira’s full lips were within striking distance slapped Lance like a pissed-off ex.

His chocolate-skinned Barbie read him like an open book with large child-friendly print. She puckered her moist lips before pressing in closer. Long platinum locks curtained his head, blocking out everything but her gorgeous visage.

“Your coach, daddy?” She insisted sweetly. “What did he say?”

“Glorp, urk, hmff!”

Lance’s hips jerked when Gina forced his rampant rigidity into her constricting esophagus. She gulped and swallowed earnestly. Her small hands jacked him relentlessly, tongue swirling tornadoes along the sensitive underside.

“Not he–she,” Lance grunted, helplessly humping the cum-hungry nympho’s face. “She cornered me in the locker room after practice and… and...”

His balls pulsed ominously, ready to erupt at any second.

“And?” Kira prompted, lowering a fraction further until her epic tits cocooned his forehead. “What happened?”

The lips which had plagued his dreams were right there.

“She cornered me in the shower and made a pass at me!” He rasped—then surged up to claim her mouth.

Their lips crashed in a frantic, hungry kiss. The sudden upward thrust drove his cock even deeper down Gina’s already distended neck.

“Hmmmph~!”

The licentious redhead took it like the pro she was, moaning around his muzzling meat and jacking him even faster, while they made out furiously.

Kira’s tongue wrestled Lance’s, apparently attempting a tonsillectomy as they devoured each other. Snatching two handfuls of long platinum hair, he locked her in place, his balls boiling fit to explode.

Then Gina’s throat clamped in a deliberate, rippling squeeze—and Lance was done for.

“Awmagawd!” He howled incoherently into the curvaceous goddess’s mouth. “Faaark!”

Butt levitating off the sofa, the uber-hung freshman’s world shook as every nerve in his body lit up like a downed power line.

Rapturous release, raw and unrestrained, rushed from him in a rapid-fire detonation. What felt like an ungodly amount of manseed blasted directly down Gina’s gluttonous gullet. It felt like his soul was being vacuumed out along with it.

Clinging desperately to Kira, lights dancing in his vision, Lance hung suspended between reality and an X-rated Shangri-La.

His mind floated freely on a warm breeze, only vaguely aware of his physical shell twitching in post-climactic convulsions. Fat-bootied seraphs flocked and frolicked in the air around him, twerking in diaphanous togas, singing filthy hymns.

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