Settle in Clara's House

It was getting cozy in Clara’s house.

Technically Evelyn slept on the couch, Maria slept on the other arm of the couch, and Clara slept in the guest bedroom. Cary had come up with this plan to create a semblance of equality in the fucking arrangements. All three girls had to be equidistant from his dick.

In reality they were all in a big pile of dick and cunny in the master bedroom. Master’s bedroom, all the girls called it. The girls found any excuse to be close to him, which meant that Cary slept in the middle of the mattress, a girl cuddled on either side, and the unlucky third at the foot of the bed, like a dog. This did mean the odd woman out got first dibs when they woke up, because Cary believed in fairness.

There were many problems, but the main one was, Cary couldn’t stop himself from fucking them. If his dick had a limit he hadn’t found it. He was definitely eating a lot – he’d gone with all three girls on a very strange trip to the grocery store. All of them had worn heels and flimsy dresses. He’d pushed the cart with his tool banging back and forth against his knees, and put a big strain on his credit card from a week’s worth of groceries.

But he was burning so many calories. When he woke up a girl was typically hunched at the foot of the bed, eyeing his heavy balls, waiting for his slight nod. He’d bounce one up and down on his rod until she was used up, fucked stupid, and then usher another one aboard. That one usually got a load in her pussy, but he was still plenty hard to fuck whoever made breakfast. Lots of oatmeal. Oatmeal was dirt cheap. Cary was eating multiple bowls.

He sort of owned a cat now, by proxy. Cary’s Clara’s cat.

Then off to work. Maria, of the three of them, seemed somewhat more with it, and headed off to her own job independently. But “with it” was a pretty subjective term – she’d briefly forgotten english after a pre-work session in the living room, and it had only returned about mid-day. She wore thigh-highs and abbreviated minis to work. She’d confessed that she found reading “super boring” and “kinda whatever”.

The other two were helpless. Clara had package after package showing up at the house, innumerable outfits and scandalous dresses. All kinds of fetish footwear. Evelyn, the first of them all, was showing alarming signs of second puberty. None of her bras fit. At work both girls found excuses to bend over in front of him, yawn enticingly, or sometimes just flip up-skirt to reveal no panties at all.

Jane, tapping away on her final report, face secured behind an N95, made no comment. But she’d also worn a blue skirt to work. And shin-high white socks. Cary was very aware that she had nice heavy breasts.

He excused himself just to take a short breather from a life of pussy. Even briefly away from them, his body wanted more. Evelyn walked over to the window glass and pushed her tits against it. His dick strained in his pants.

The phone rang. Maybe its another girl, Cary’s dick told him.

“Hello? I don’t own a house if you want me to sell mine.”

“You the guy with the big dick?” the voice was very male, very tired.

Cary paused.

“Speaking.”

The voice chortled. “Me too, friend. Welcome to the club.”

Cary had thrown an e-mail into the ether, containing his phone number, to the mystery man on the ancient message board. A yahoo address that seemed like a throwaway and had to be defunct. “Are you– like me? Just kinda exploded in penis over a month or so?”

More slow laughter. “Oh yeah. Big month. Hard to believe I was this weenie-dicked guy. And the balls. Big balls. Grew a lot.”

“You ever figure out what…?”

“No, no. My name is Miles, by the way.”

“Miles of Dick?” Cary said.

“No. That’s just my actual name. Miles. Listen, I had to call. Give you some advice. You feel it, right? You get around some trim and you’re just – you gotta, right? You gotta? And the girls are just all about you? Feels like you’re not calling the shots, right? Your underpants are.”

Evelyn was putting on a show in the window. She slipped her tits out of her shirt and pressed her nipples against the glass. They pancaked out, brown and heavy.

“I’m calling the shots,” Cary said, eyes distant. He was facing Evelyn, he noticed. His dick had gotten lined up right with the juncture between her legs.

“No, you’re not. I don’t know if it’s magic– I mean, it’s magic, don’t get me wrong. Look, here’s the big thing I have to tell you. Just keep walking. You try and stick around, it’s a dozen girls in a house, all of them out of their minds addicted to your jizz. It’s not manageable. And they only get hornier, you should know. Once their tits start growing again? Walk.”

“Walk,” Cary said, flatly.

“Well if you run you’ll hurt your dick. You and me, we aren’t runners anymore.” Another coarse, bitter laugh.

“What happens to the girls?”

“They’re sexy little things. They’re fine. They just miss the dick. Look I’ve run into other – not like us, but close. Just keep walking. It’s what you’re gonna do anyway. Every time you run into new pussy… we’re johnny appleseeds, you and me.”

“Okay,” Cary said. He pulled his eyes away from Evelyn with difficulty. She was trying and failing to press her slit up against the glass as well. She was trying very hard. “Thanks for the advice. Very much appreciated.”

“Hey, I’m just try–”

Cary hung up.