Chad's Met His Match

Unless he was about to cum in some other chick's mouth.

"I'll be down in a sec," I muttered, reaching down to grab for one of the girls' ponytails. I dragged whichever mouth it was up to my cockhead and started to thrust into it. I had to hurry now: I had a phone call.

I threw on some boxers and went downstairs after I was done, headed for the phone in the front hall. Shit; some of my cum was still leaking out, staining the front of my shorts as my cock went slowly flaccid. Embarrassing. I grabbed the house phone. "Hi, it's Chad," I said.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then an amused female voice drifted into my ear. Score! "Hi, Chad," Ashley purred. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important."

I told the truth. "Nothing important at all, gorgeous," I said, peeling my underwear off my sticky dick. "I was just thinking about calling you, as a matter of fact."

"That would be difficult, since we never exchanged digits," she replied; I could practically hear her shrug through the phone. "Thought I'd get through on this line. Can you talk, or are you out in the middle of the hall naked or something?"

Shit. Close enough. "Why don't you give me your number? I'll call you."

"Sure." So I headed back upstairs, clutching a dirty slip of paper with Ashley's digits. Of course, both chicks were still there, lolling on my bed like I'd rented them all night; I smacked Emma's ass and jerked a thumb toward the door.

"Out, girls!" I ordered. "I've got to take care of some business." Meaningfully, I picked up my phone and started to enter Ashley's info, not even looking at the two tarts on the bed.

"Jesus, Chad," Britney whined, buttoning her pants, "aren't you even going to eat us out?"

"Not tonight, my little Tokyo Rose," I breezed, shooing her away. "That was my mom. Family emergency," I lied. Emma put her hand to her mouth.

"Can I do anything?" she asked, concerned, her eyes wide. I thought about it; she'd probably let me fuck her in the ass if she thought my uncle was sick or something. But no; I had Ashley on a string now. Still, I filed it away for later.

"Thanks, babe, but no thanks," I told her, reaching briefly out to stroke her round little cheek. There was some cum there, where she'd missed a spot; apparently, Emma was the one who had taken my nut. Goddamn Britney, demanding I go down on her; she hadn't earned it. I shot the Chinese bitch a cynical glance. "You were just going, right?" I held up my phone.

"Jesus," Britney said in some disgust. "Let's go, Em. I'll bet he's calling his little ginger girlfriend." Ha ha fucking ha. If she only knew.

"I'll get you back later," I called to their retreating little asses. "You know I'm good for it." Britney shot me a venomous glance, but at least she shut the door behind her. Girls, man. You can never tell. I had the phone to my ear in a hot second, waiting for the sound of Ashley's rich, syrupy voice.

"Have I finally seen the last of you?" she wondered. "You don't come around much anymore. Ana was getting lonely."

"Hardy har har. Somehow, I don't think she approved of me." Unexpectedly, my dick was already stirring again just from this chick's voice. That, and the memory of Ana's tits.

"She doesn't approve of anyone. So, what's the deal? You coming over?"

"Shit, honey," I said, glancing over at the clock. "It's already past curfew. You'll just have to get through another night without me." I wouldn't be able to get into the Quan this late unless a resident let me in. I was leaving the door open here, hoping she'd do the same thing less metaphorically.

"How can I possibly manage that?" Her voice was a humid whisper. God, she was sexy! "A woman's got needs, you know."

"Got plans for tomorrow night? Say, around seven? I can come over and take care of you, if you want."

Her silvery laugh, trailing into a sigh. I hardened like a gun barrel. 'I'm sure you can. As luck would have it, I get out of class at six. I was going to go dancing afterward; you can take me out."

"Well, actually," I flirted, leaning back in my chair as I pulled out my cock, "I was thinking maybe we could stay in. You know, discuss econ. Maybe finish off our conversation from last time."

"Just come on up," she giggled. "I'll leave a note for Ana in case she's not home. That way, she won't beat you up when you come bursting in."

"Thanks," I said dryly. I'll come bursting in, all right. Down her fucking throat. "See you tomorrow, beautiful."

"Only if you're lucky, stud!" She laughed herself out, the phone line clicking dead while I sat there and stroked myself. Holy fuck. I pondered the conversation, watching as Emma's saliva dried on my dick, then put it away and went to find long, lithe Britney. Sure, Emma had earned the cunt-munching, but Britney tasted better.

* * *

Nobody was in Room 230 when I punched myself in the next evening, having ninja-crept up the stairs nearby. The Christmas lights were off this time, and the windows were wide open to the humid breeze. I sat on Ashley's bed for a few minutes, then started wandering around poking into her stuff. I wasn't really trying to be intrusive, you understand: I just wanted to figure out what Ashley's last name was.

Okay; there it was, on a bill from Student Health. Ashley Gallo. I was relieved to note that the bill was for birth control, rather than for some kind of psychotropic medication; I had no need to saddle myself with some head-case. I found another one for "counseling services," though, and a third for a recent gyno exam. Hmm. I ran y eyes down the list of procedures. Seemed to be in good health down there.

I rolled the name over in my mind as I sat back down. Gallo. Ashley Gallo. It was a good, strong name, the kind of name a professional event planner or real-estate agent would have. Italian, presumably. That explained the complexion and that mystifying inner fire, and gave further credence to my notion about her future: at 25, or 26 at the latest, that chick would turn into Strega Nona. No doubt about it. She'd do well to get as much dick as she could in the meantime, and a husband too. Well, I aimed to help with the first part, anyway.

The door clicked then, suddenly, and for the second time in a few evenings I was interrupted by the arrival of Ana. She was in school clothes: short shorts that unshielded her thick, nicely curved legs, a tight t-shirt up top that left her boobs jiggling as she walked. Again, I marveled at their size; they seemed to enter the room a good five minutes before Ana did. She sighed as she came in.

"Huh. You're here," she grunted, putting down an army-surplus messenger bag. Her thick hair was pulled back into a damp ponytail. "Ash texted me and said you'd be here. To what do I owe your sacred appearance?"

"Hello to you too, Ana," I said politely. It would do me no good to alienate Ashley's roommate, even if I'd never get her to suck my dick. "Thanks for having me."

"Yeah." She sat down on her head and regarded me brutally. "She's probably going to fuck you, y'know," she observed. "She's got low standards and very little self-control."

"Well, we'll see," I replied smoothly, shaking off the insult. "I assure you, Ana, my intentions are far more honorable than Nicole Fuller thinks."

"Oh, I've got no doubt about that," she said with a braying laugh. "That bitch is a jealous liar who needs to get herself a man. Or a woman, more likely." She eyed me sourly. "Well, no need for me to entertain you. I've got shit to do." She heaved herself off the bed, swung over to her desk, and promptly ignored me.

* * *

It soon got awkward, sitting there with Ana waiting for Ashley. She made no effort to make me feel comfortable; she just sat there across the room from me with her earbuds in, reading an article on something called integrated learning.

Around 7:30, both our phones buzzed with an incoming text. We looked briefly into each other's eyes, then moved like a pair of marines in a color guard to pick up our respective phones, bring them to life, and check the texts. We both read the exact same message from the exact same person:

HEY. RUNNIN LATE. ILL BE @ SPEC TONYS @8. XOX.

Hm. Spectacle Tony's was a pirate-themed bar in the next town over. I looked up from my screen to find Ana staring at me with those black-olive eyes.

"Shit, Chad," she drawled, putting her phone down. "I guess that bitch stood you up."

"Yeah." I watched as Ana stretched her arms lazily, never taking her eyes off mine as her arms rose over her head. I couldn't say the same for my eyes, though, which dipped down to look at her huge knockers as her arms rose, the t-shirt straining. I just couldn't stop myself, and I'm not ashamed: I'd do it again. Those things were incredible.

"Hey, so, like, are you and she dating or something?" Ana leaned back, propping herself up with her arms; this, of course kept making amazing things happen to her rack.

"What?" I tore my eyes back up toward hers. "No, not really. Not at all, in fact."

"Good. Because I'd have had to tell her you were staring at my tits just now." She was smirking cruelly, her eyes narrowed. "You like them, don't you?"

"What? No, I... that is, well, they're fine, but no... I..."

She snickered. "Relax, man. Guys look at them all the time. I know they're huge." She put her article aside and winked at me. "You've got some time to kill now. Want to come over here and have a little fun?"

I blinked. No way could she be serious. Had she read my mind? I probed. "What are you talking about, Ana?"

"I'm talking," she said with a devious half-smile, "about you and me and your reputation. Everyone on this floor thinks you're a sexual deviant; I figure, why not sample the goods?" She sat up and lifted her shirt a bit; I found myself staring at the soft but mesmerizing skin of her belly. A silver stud in her navel caught the light. "I mean, as long as you've got the shitty rep, it's not like you've got anything to lose." With some difficulty, she maneuvered her shirt up and over those fat, monstrous titties.

I found myself looking at a topless Mexican honey with a lacy black bra straining to contain their contents. I felt myself grin. "Shit, Ana," I laughed, fixating on the Grand Canyon between those olive funbags. "You're serious?"

"I am. Are you?" She looked slowly down my body, her eyes stopping at my crotch. Already I was inching upward.

"Oh yeah." I'd always been a sucker for massive hooters, meaning I enjoyed sucking on them. She rocked her shoulders, laughing at me as she jiggled delightfully. "I can be serious."

"Well then, Chaddo," she sang playfully, "why don't you stand up and show me how serious you are?" She had one bra strap off her shoulder now, the edges of a broad brown areola just starting to peek out from behind her lace bra cup. I was on my feet at once, very familiar with this kind of thing. The jiggle of her flesh had my dick standing hard, and I grinned as I unzipped myself and dropped both shorts and boxers. "Well!" she said, her voice hoarse and low as she looked frankly at my exposed erection. "What's that I see?" She looked innocently up into my eyes. "Did I do that?"

"Hell yeah," I managed, back in full swagger mode; I had my shirt pulled up and I walked toward her, shuffling because my pants were around my ankles, jacking myself slowly. Jesus fuck! Ana was going to let me fuck her!

She watched carefully as my dick approached. "Nice," she murmured. "You want me to suck that white dick?" She licked her lips, running her hands over her breasts. She juggled them briefly. "Or is it these things? You want to stick that cock in between my titties?" she asked hotly. She watched my eyes, then nodded. "Yeah, that's what you want. A little boob job." She was eyeing my dick, now just a foot away from her tits and getting harder by the second.

I couldn't believe my luck. "You can wrap those titties around any body part you want, honey," I said thickly. Was it possible this was all happening? Could I ever keep Julia from finding out about it? Or, hell, Ashley?

"Yeah?" She bent her head and licked across the top of her right tit. "You think that skinny, twisted little dick is going to survive a trip through these things?"

"Shit," I began, all set to take off my shirt, but then she laughed gaily.

"Fat chance, white boy," she sneered, reaching for her shirt. She stuck a lazy hand out and gave my erection a little smack, making it bob painfully. I just stared. "I wouldn't titfuck you if you were the last cock on Earth. Get out of here, you piece of shit." She tossed the shirt back over the thick black waves of her hair, steered her boobs back inside, and picked up her article without even glancing at me again.

I stood there, confused and wilting, for about five seconds before I realized she wasn't kidding. Then, quietly, I pulled my shorts up and beat a hasty retreat.

* * *

So it was a subdued and frustrated Chad that headed over the Spectacle Tony's that night. This was a disgusting, divey watering hole down in a part of town the University advised us all to avoid. Which meant students jammed the area most nights. Tino Tommy's was down there, plus the Smelly Donkey, the Whiskey Shoppe, and The Alibi. Spec Tony's was the last one on the block, right on the edge of town near a stream. The pirate theme, as I understood it, was only a few years old; they'd built a deck on the back of the place, swung a plank out over the stream, and started serving rum. Then they'd watched the cash roll in.

In keeping with their avowedly anti-authoritarian ideals, the staff at Spec Tony's was pretty casual about checking IDs. Me, I hadn't been there since I'd turned 21, though it had been a favorite hangout before then. I got the familiar old scent of sweat, beer, and floor cleaner as soon as I got out of the taxi, and it only got stronger as I entered. The place was low and dim and smoky and just plain nasty.

The staff scooted around in eyepatches and tricorne hats. Male staff had little vests on over bare chests, while the females were tricked out in a fishnets-and-corsets motif. Lots of people there were saying "arr." My newly selective libido recoiled a bit as I surveyed the scene: lots of desperate weirdos here.

I checked my phone again to get my bearings. Ashley had texted me in the cab, just as I was pulling up, with many emojis. SHITS ABOUT TO GO DOWN!! she'd sent, and nothing else since. I replied to let her know I was here, and to find out where the fuck she was. I was on edge, needing to find her; the taxi had been an extravagance rationalized by my extreme horniness.

GOTO THE DECK. ILL FIND U!

Well, fine. I maneuvered past sweltering bodies and vomit piles, trying to keep the spilled beer off my sandaled feet, and edged toward the sliding doors at the back.

It was a dark night, and out beyond the fake cannon and the gold-painted mock gunwale the trees began just a few feet away on the other side of the stream. I'd been there, my impatience growing, for around two minutes when I felt an insistent hand and arm snaking around my waist.

"Hey, sexy," Ashley said, her smile bright with inebriation. She got up on tiptoe and gave me a strong, harsh kiss that tasted like a Midori sour. It wasn't very pleasant, but I was game; I let my tongue dabble in her mouth for a moment before, slurping, she backed off. "We need to hurry. Come with me." She grabbed my hand and started off toward some rickety stairs on the side of the deck, leading down to where the employees took their breaks.

Before we got beyond the lights, I got a chance to check out her loose, flowy see-through top, a dark bra clearly visible within; her shorts were so short they might as well have been a swimsuit bottom. Those long, strong legs flexed surely as they moved off the steps and over the rocks toward the stream and the trees beyond. "What's going on, Ashley?"

I had no idea what was happening, but Ashley had a sense of purpose I found impossible to deny. "Gotta hurry," she muttered again, stumbling once as she found the edge of the stream. The sounds of the bar behind us had already faded, the shadows of the trees reaching for us. As soon as we got under the first one, she stopped short. I collided with her and ended up pasted against her body, my hands reflexively going down to grip her smoothly curved, slender hips. They sent a strong jolt to my cock.

"So, here's the deal," she whispered, turning in my arms. I smelled the alcohol on her breath, the deodorant on her body. "Do you know Heather Nance? Lives in 214?"

"The freshman." She'd made a drunken pass at me at a house party a couple weeks before, but I wasn't interested. She had bad teeth, the kind that I just knew would pull on my pubes. Besides, she was unhealthfully skinny. Not a look I enjoyed, though she was pretty enough. I nodded in the dark.

"There's a bunch of us here, and she went in the woods with a couple of guys," she explained rapidly, nodding toward the trees. "I think she's about to get nailed. Wanna watch with me?"

Holy fuck. What? I mean, I knew from personal experience that Ashley Gallo had sort of a voyeur thing going on, but watching from the bushes as her friend got tag-teamed seemed... well, unsavory. Scary, even. "You sure?"

"Positive." She grabbed my hand again and led the way. "Keep quiet!" she hissed, her eyes huge in the starlight as she got her bearings and headed off.

A light grew in the trees ahead: somebody had a flashlight app on their phone, the light small but powerful. And as we stopped well back from a small clearing, there it was: a tiny, naked Heather, working hard between two larger and more muscular men, who were loudly congratulating each other as they spit-roasted her.

Now, there's a lot of mythology about spit-roasting, Eiffel towers, London Bridges, and other such gonzo sex acts. Plenty of people seem to think of them as a kind of sexual Everest, something you do (or say you did) to impress people. I can say I've done the spit-roast twice, and that it's not about excitement and passion and all that shit. No, it's mostly about logistics. You get a very brief opportunity, once you've got your dick into either end of the chick, to establish the right rhythm with the other guy.

The first time I'd tried it, in high school after a swim meet, it hadn't gone well; the girl, whose name was something like Megan or Sarah, had bumped uncertainly around like a pendulum, and none of the three of us had had much fun. The second time, with me at the back end and my bro Joel at the front of a wet and willing Julia Cooney, had gone well after the first few moments. See, the beginning had been awkward because I was sliding into her pussy faster and deeper than Joel could jam it into her mouth. So, determined to make it work, I'd stopped the show and hit on the obvious fix: I fucked her in the ass instead.

From the looks of things, poor Heather's determined suitors hadn't figured that out yet. They pummeled her mindlessly from both ends, making no effort at teamwork, seemingly racing each other to their thick, pearly white conclusion. The guy in back had buried a fat finger in her scrawny asshole, and was literally lifting her off the forest floor with his dick; his thrusts were sending ripples all across her pale moonlit flesh, twisting her neck as they drove her onto the guy in front, who was using her hair to drag her mouth across his cock like she was a blowup doll.

I found myself offended. Not on her behalf, but on theirs; they just weren't doing it right. The guys I hang with take pride in knowing how to properly fuck a hot bitch, and these two were screwing the whole thing up. I hesitated, then bent down close to Ashley. "She's not, like, getting raped or anything?"