Amazon Erin Fucks a Virgin

Note: All characters involved in this story are eighteen or older.

Referring to Darren and his group of friends as losers would not have been accurate. Among them were athletes, scholars, musicians, and other successful high school archetypes. One thing that bound them was an uncanny lack of luck with the fairer sex. Of the core group, sarcastically called the Super Seven within the crew, Todd Wilkins had gotten the farthest with a girl, having scored a handjob off of a cheerleader named Rebecca Jonas in the locker room after a football game.

Neal claimed he'd gotten a blowjob while touring the University of Colorado at Boulder, but he was a pathological liar, and no one believed him. Omar was the only one of them that had ever had a serious girlfriend, and she was a super high-strung Christian chick that was unlikely to put out before marriage.

But this complete lack of success didn't keep the Super Seven from trying. Although I use the term "trying" subjectively, because rather than asking girls out or trying to build relationships with them, the strategy more often than not was to go to parties, get super drunk, and hope for the best. But the best just never seemed to materialize.

They say the definition of insanity is to try the same thing over and over while expecting different results, and so it was for the Super Seven. Surely Archie's party would be the one where their collective curse would be broken. They felt sure of it. Word on the street was that a bunch of girls from Loyola were going to the party, and unlike the prude bitches at their own school, these slutty, repressed Catholic chicks always put out.

Prior to the party, they cruised around and drank whiskey, Darren riding with the half of the crew that was in Omar's truck. Much to his chagrin, Todd was there too. While technically friends, since they hung out all the time, they had the kind of friendship where they didn't really like each other, but still cared enough to at least have strong feelings, if that makes any sense.

Being a marginally decent football player, Todd acted above the rest of the group, especially Darren, whom he saw as an easy target. In classic bully fashion, he would put Darren down to make himself feel better, constantly giving him shit for his lack of height, his bad skin, and other factors mostly beyond his control. It being the early 2000's he would constantly call Darren a "fag", the word having not grown out of vogue yet.

And yet none of this used to really bother Darren that much because at the end of the day, Todd had been just as unsuccessful with the ladies as he had, and sadly that was the main currency for high school boys. But of course, that all changed when Rebecca Jonas stroked Todd off. It had happened after a game in which Todd ran the ball three times for fourteen yards, and scored his first ever touchdown.

Todd and Rebecca had been flirting in Biology class all quarter long, but had never acted on their feelings until they were both experiencing the thrill of victory after a hard fought game. As soon as the game ended, Todd ran over and gave her a hug, followed by a peck on the cheek that came from sheer adrenaline. That then led to a quick kiss on the lips, which led to plans to meet up after Coach Fuller finished his dumbass speech.

Sure enough, when Coach was done talking the two of them met up behind the locker room to make out. Then when they were certain everyone else had left the locker room, they snuck back inside to get a little steamier. Eventually they wound up in Trainer Tim's office, where Todd laid down on the trainer's table while Rebecca masturbated him.

Darren knew for sure this had actually happened because a backup linebacker named Jack Hearns had come into the trainer's office looking for ice, only to find Rebecca milking Todd's cock with two hands at a time. Much to Todd's liking, Jack neglected to keep what he saw to himself. Even more to his liking, Rebecca had told some of her friends about it, and afterwards the word around school was that while Todd Wilkins was kind of a shitty running back and an asshole, but he had a donkey dick.

So by and by Todd never let Darren hear the end of this, although he noticeably went silent everytime Darren followed up by asking why Rebecca hadn't gone back for seconds. But on the night of Archie's party, Todd was much more focused on an incident involving Darren's penis. "Hey Kegstand, you planning on showing everyone your itty bitty baby dick again? Because if you are, we might want to pick up a penis pump before we head over."

Todd was referring to an incident that most of the school had forgotten about, but that he'd never let Darren forget. It had occurred two years prior when Darren was doing a keg stand in front of a massive crowd, and his dick popped out of his unzipped fly. Not realizing his dick was flopping in the wind, and thinking all the shouting and cheering was in honor of his chugging ability, he did a ridiculously long keg stand.

The half second after he'd finished the keg stand and truly took in the raucous cheering had been one of best moments of his life. But this feeling shattered in spectacular fashion when he looked down and saw his cock hanging out, followed by seeing Claire Thomas laughing with Jenny Buenrostro while doing the universal "it's so small" finger gesture.

It was true that his dick wasn't very big, probably a tad under average even, but it had been particularly small that night because he was pretty drunk, and it was frigid out. He figured the incident would ruin his life, but after catching shit about it for one or two days, everyone just moved on...except for Todd of course.

"Did you bring a magnifying glass with you?" Todd continued. "Seriously, it's not like you're ever going to get any, but if you do, the poor bitch is going to need one to find your little shrimp dick. This poor guy! Most guys carry a condom around, but this poor asshole has to carry a magnifying glass."

No one else in the car laughed, but no one told him to stop either. While the rest of the crew also thought Todd was a douche bag, they also secretly liked knowing that despite their shortcomings in the sex department, Darren was still lowest on the totem pole.

Archie's party couldn't have come any sooner for Darren. The moment he got there his sole objective was to get the fuck away from Todd. And as he so often did at parties, he almost immediately found himself hanging out in a corner.

The corner he wound up in happened to be occupied by a few acquaintances passing around a bottle of vodka, surely swiped from the liquor cabinet. The bottle made several trips around the circle before the acquaintances went off in search of other kicks, leaving the bottle behind with Darren. He had two swigs by his lonesome, and was gearing up for a third when he spotted a true amazonian heading his way.

She was a head taller than all the other girls in the kitchen, and even stood above most of the boys. And far from seeming shy about her height, she walked with a tremendous sense of grace and power, as though all eyes in the room should rightfully be on her.

She certainly had Darren's attention anyhow, what with her low-cut frilly blouse, and yoga pants that did nothing to hide her voluptuous thighs. Her long, curly brown hair swayed in unison to her hips as she strode with great purpose right up next to Darren. "I love your style, drinking straight from the bottle," she commented. "Mind if I join?"

Truth be told, he probably would've preferred to keep drinking solo. He was painfully shy around normal looking girls, yet alone one as confident, beautiful, and powerfully built as this Amazon. But he wasn't about to let her know this. "Sure. Here you go," he said, handing her the bottle.

The Amazon laughed. "Oh my god, I love your style so much, but I'm more traditional myself. I'm gonna see if I can find a couple of shot glasses," she said as she rummaged through the cupboards.

"Aha, here we go!" she exclaimed, having found what she was looking for. "I'm glad I found you, I've never been to a party where it was so hard to find booze."

While the Amazon poured out the shots, Darren remarked, "Actually, I'm not sure I've ever seen you at a party before. I guess we run in different circles."

"Are you saying you would've remembered me if you'd seen me before?" she asked flirtatiously.

Darren turned bright, bright red, mostly because what she'd said was true. "Um, no, it's not that. I just um...I'm usually good at remembering faces, and um...I'm a senior so I'm not used to seeing unfamiliar faces at this point."

"To senior year," the Amazon said, lifting her glass and clinking it with Darren's.

They took their shots, and both did the obligatory head shake with various "whoo" and "yak" style sound effects. "Nectar of the gods," the Amazon said, as she reached for the bottle to pour another round.

"So just to clarify, we really haven't met before, right?" Darren asked.

"Probably not," she replied. "I rarely go to Buenaventura parties. I go to Loyola."

"Oh, okay. How'd you wind up here then?"

"I know Archie, sort of. Well, not really. Actually my friend knows him. He wants her to give him a blowjob. The poor guy basically threw this party just so he could get some head. I can tell you, it's not going to happen for him though. My friend's kinda using him, to be honest."

Darren was a little shocked by her bluntness. He wondered if this was the way all Loyola chicks talked. And was it true that they really were more promiscuous than Buenaventura girls? Her frank sex-talk certainly led him to believe there might be something to it. Anyhow, the conversation left him dumbfounded, and an even brighter shade of red. "I see," he said. "I don't really know anyone from Loyola."

The Amazon finished pouring the shots, and capped the bottle. "I'm Erin."

"Darren."

"Hey, we rhyme! Here's to rhyming!" Erin exclaimed as they clinked glasses and drank.

"Whew, that one was rough," Darren commented.

Erin drew in a deep breath. "Sure was. I think I'm good for now."

"Yeah, me too."

"Well then, I'm going to wander around and see where the night takes me. If our paths cross again, don't be a stranger."

"Cool. Nice meeting you, Erin."

Darren proceeded to wander around the party aimlessly until, he again found himself in a corner, only this time it was the corner of a couch, and he was surrounded by Omar, Frank, Todd, and another friend nicknamed Doc, whom he liked only slightly more than Todd.

All around them people were dancing and having fun, while Darren and his friends sat on the sidelines offering snarky commentary, and bitching about how lame the party was. "Hey Todd," Doc teased. "I thought you said there was a 95% chance you were gonna 'fuck a Loyola bitch' tonight."

"I guess that 5% was right," Omar chimed in.

"Shiiit. I'm just waiting for song that doesn't fucking suck, and then I'll hit up some bitch on the dance floor. Everyone knows how I get down, unlike you losers that have never even had a bitch look at your dick, let alone touch it."

Frank, ever the kind soul and diffuser, mentioned, "My doctor's a woman, and she's seen and touched my dick. You're right, the music does suck though. I'm waiting for the right song to jump in too."

While they were using the music as an excuse, they were right about it sucking. The popular party music of the era was soulless, brain-dead MTV hip hop. While a majority of dudes at the party probably flat out liked this shitty music, most of the remainder at least had the good sense to appreciate that while the music was awful, it at least led to girls being eager to grind their ass all over you. But Darren's crew couldn't even see the beauty in that.

The only beauty Darren had his sights on was Erin. She wasn't dancing with any one person, but was spreading the love around, grinding her fat ass up against all comers, male or female that came in her orbit. "In Da Cub" was bumping, getting the dance floor all kind of worked up, as Darren watched Erin bend over, grab her ankles, and bounce her ass all over the lap of another Loyola chick he didn't recognize.

The other girl appeared just as freaky as Erin, and made a show of spanking her, and then pulling Erin's pants halfway down her ass, exposing a dainty, black lace thong. At the end of the song when Erin pulled her pants back up, she intentionally let the thong hangout. The music of the era may have been complete shit, but Darren at least felt blessed to be in high school at a time where this was an accepted fashion choice.

As Darren was finishing up his third beer, his friends still hadn't quit bitching about how lame the party was, and he was over it. He was focusing less and less on what they were saying, and more and more on the rhythmic bouncing of Erin's big, thong-clad ass. He hadn't spoken to her since their time in the kitchen, but something was building in him. He could feel his heart beating to the pulse of a song he truly despised. "I wanna lick, lick, lick, lick you from your head to your toes," it went.

As the chorus blared, Erin licked her fingers in a make no mistake about it, highly sexual way. It was more than Darren could stand. Chugging the remainder of his beer and throwing it to the ground, he made his way to the dance floor. As he got up, the last thing he heard from his friends was Todd saying, "Where's Kegstand going?"

The minute he made eye contact with Erin, she lit up like a pinball machine. "Hey, Vodka Boy! I thought maybe you'd left."

"Still here!" he shouted above the music.

"Good, that makes me happy!" Erin noted, sounding much more inebriated than she had earlier. "What was your name again?"

"Darren. We rhyme, remember?"

"Right!" she replied, laughing more than was warranted. "Join me!"

While the music was shit, Darren did enjoy what did pass for "dancing" at a party. Known colloquially as "freak dancing" or simply "freakin'", this style of dancing was more or less just dry sex, and required zero prerequisite ability. As Ludacris' sex rap bumped over the speaker, Erin straddled Darren's thigh and rode him like a horse, mimicking a lassoing motion and everything.

And when the chorus kicked in, the "lick, lick, lick you part", Erin took it quite literally by taking Darren's hand, and miming a blowjob on his index and middle fingers. And when the chorus kicked in again after that, she took the opportunity to lick and nibble his ear, exposing an erogenous zone Darren didn't even know he had.

By the time the chorus kicked in for a third time, the song had solidified its place as one of Darren's favorites. What, with Erin lifting his shirt and tracing a line with her tongue from the top of his jeans to his nipples.

Meanwhile, all Darren's friends were completely transfixed with what was going on, discussing and analyzing his every mood. When Erin lifted her shirt up, Todd said, "Holy shit! I never knew Kegstand was so into fat chicks. He truly has no shame."

A few of the others chimed in as well, and while it was true that Erin was somewhat large, but "fat" was a poor choice of word for describing her. Simply put, she just had a large frame and a healthy thickness. But she wore her weight well, with the majority of it accumulated in her hips and ass.

In 2005, the waning days of the heroin chic era, Erin's body wasn't considered desirable. But if she'd been born a decade later, in the Brazilian butt lift era, she would've been an it girl.

So while Erin may not have been the era's public perception of beauty, she was still the kind of girl that guys secretly fantasized about, because her body type was considered taboo. Deep down the Super Seven boys knew their commentary was coming from a place of envy, but of course none of them would admit it.

And boy did that envy burn white-hot during the final chorus of the song when Erin dropped into a catcher's squat, ass halfway exposed, and started licking the front of Darren's jeans. "Too bad he remembered to zip his fly this time," Neal commented.

When the song fended, Darren didn't think there was any way it could be topped, but he hadn't banked on "Back That Azz Up" coming on next. The chorus on this banger took Erin's antics to a whole other level culminating with her bending all the way over, hands to the floor, and grinding her ass right up into Darren's suddenly erect penis.

Then grabbing her hips as firmly as he could, he thrust himself into the cushion of her ass again and again. It was an utterly ridiculous thing to be doing on a dance floor, but looking around, it wasn't even all that out of the ordinary compared to the kind of shit other couples were doing out there.

What was out of the ordinary, though, was about thirty seconds later when turning her back to Darren, Erin pulled her pants all the way down below her ass. And when she backed it up into Darren's crotch, he not only pumped like he was fucking her, but spanked it around from side to side. "Ooh," Erin moaned. "Do it harder Vodka boy!"

And indeed he smacked her so hard it left a red hand mark, making a sound that somehow managed to resonate above the thumping baseline. The next time he spanked her, he did so more lightly, but added in the twist of grabbing a fistful of ass. He then did the same thing on the other cheek, and with his firm grip established, aggressively smashed her ass into his crotch.

He maybe got ten pumps in before Erin spun around and started making out with him. Darren had drunkenly made out with two chicks before, but still had no idea what he was doing. Whats more, he seemed far more concerned with groping every inch of her ass than with his tongue game. He was somewhat embarrassed when after just thirty seconds or so of kissing, Erin unlocked her lips, and told him to relax a little bit and use less tongue.

He did his best to heed her advice, and when the song ended, Erin told him he was doing much better, and asked if he'd get her a beer and meet her in the living room.

He started on his way with the biggest shit eating grin on his face, knowing his friends would see him en route. But if he thought they would be impressed by his luck on the dance floor, he was sadly mistaken. "Oh thank god, you finally came to your senses and escaped from that whale," Neal cruelly announced.

Before he could respond, Todd added, "Yeah, you lucked out man. Where's she going, anyway? Is she getting some Burger King or something?"

Others in the group took a more pragmatic approach. One friend mentioned that he'd heard from numerous Loyola kids that Erin was a huge slut, and should be avoided at all costs. According to another friend's intel, she almost certainly had herpes. In fact, word on the street according to yet another friend was that she'd already sucked off a different guy earlier in the night. "Do you really wanna taste someone else's cum, bro?" the friend opined.

Regarding the body-shaming, Darren just ignored it. He found her body incredibly sexy, and had a craven desire to to pound the shit out of her fat ass. The slut-shaming concerned him a bit more, because given her actions on the dance floor there seemed to be a kernel of truth there, but he ultimately dismissed it as jealousy.

When Darren continued on, Neal said, "It's embarrassing watching him yearning over a slut like that."

"Shiiit, it might even be more embarrassing than taking his dick out during a keg stand," Todd added.

Even Frank piled on, granted in his own sweet way. "Does he really want his first time to be with a total slut like that? I know I want to wait until I'm actually with a girl I love," he lied.

"Don't worry," Todd comforted him. "He's not getting laid. This is Kegstand we're talking about, destined to be a virgin for life. He wouldn't know what to do with pussy if it came with an instruction manual."