Crunch Time - Friday

FRIDAY

Sam awoke with the morning sun on his face, a raging erection, and a deep sense of confusion.

He wasn't in his dinky apartment, lying in his lumpy bed. No warm sheets covered his strapping frame, nor were there any sounds from his neighbors filtering through the paper-thin walls.

It was blessedly quiet, and he had apparently been sleeping seated upright on a surprisingly comfortable couch.

Blinking the golden light of dawn out of his eyes, Sam took in his surroundings and, after a few seconds of incomprehension, recognized where he was...

In the manager's office of Chandler Accounting, on the visitor's lounge where Sadie had ridden him to exhaustion the evening before.

The older woman had been insatiable and very demanding. The ruinous state of the furniture was a testament to that.

The heavy timber desk was shoved up against the large picture window through which the sunlight shone. Legal tomes and reference books were scattered about the floor like detritus after an earthquake. The expensive Indian rug was bunched up in one corner under the broken roller chair, and almost every surface bore some evidence of their rigorous coupling.

Drying puddles of their combined juices and dribbled lines of titty milk were everywhere. Sadie had ordered him to fuck her in ways the junior accountant had never imagined but tried his darndest to comply.

...covering her slim body face down on the carpet, pounding that sweet puss as she squeezed his thick shaft with her core muscles and twerked her shapely ass back into his thrusts.

...crushed up against the tall bookshelves, folded in half with her high-heeled boots stuck up around his ears and her ripe tits leaking milk down his front. His poor sweater vest was stained in liters of her creamy lactate that no amount of dry cleaning would completely remove.

Bent over the desk had been a very popular choice. Sam wasn't sure why. Sadie was clearly a woman who relished control, and that particularly vulnerable position relinquished much of it. But her passionate cries and crotch-soaking climaxes seemed especially pronounced when he railed her gorgeously lean, busty figure on top of her workstation.

Perhaps it was because she never truly lost any control? Was his nympho boss getting off, secure in the knowledge that she was the ringleader of their shared sexcapades the whole time?

Sam didn't mind. It had been an educational experience. Even if the around-the-room fuckathon in her leather roller chair had ended in a disastrous crash in the corner. Sadie had squawked when he slipped from her sloppy pussy and into her puckered asshole by mistake but quickly changed her tune as he blasted a hot load inside her tight, constricting bowels.

After that toe-curling revelation, she had opened every hole to Sam. Her sexy MILF body was a carnal funhouse for him to explore and enjoy, even as she ordered him into greater acts of depravity around gooey mouthfuls of his ever-ready donkey dick.

They had rutted into the late hours, loud and unabashed, well past closing time. The night ended with Sadie gloriously naked except for her black knee-high boots, straddling Sam's jutting lap on the visitor's couch while he suckled like a famished infant at her overflowing teets.

Then she had... what? Rode him into unconsciousness before locking up for the night and leaving him there to keep until morning?

Grumbling with irritation, Sam looked down at himself.

Morning wood soared skywards like a girthy totem to masculinity from the torn wreckage of his slacks, veiny and hard, if tacky to the touch with drying fluids. His curly thatch of pubic hair was matted with wetness where it poked through the tattered, tan-colored fabric.

Checking his watch, Sam sighed. He would clean himself up in the bathroom as best he could before finding something--anything--to conceal his immodestly and hide behind his desk all day.

Like he did every day, there was nothing new about that...

Except the idea of moping about in the background suddenly stuck in his craw. Sam had spent the last few days as a hugely hung hunk. Blowing porn-worthy money shots onto and into Zoey and Sadie, respectively.

He wasn't some ninety-pound weakling, content with getting life's sand kicked in his face anymore. The ashy-haired young man was now a sturdily built stud who made women howl in ecstasy and wanted some recognition, dammit!

Stiffening with resolve, Sam rose from the couch, trying to ignore the other aching stiffness waving about at hip height, only to flinch at the sound of a soft voice calling quietly from outside the door.

"Sam, are you in there?" Zoey whispered in a low, urgent tone. "It's all spirally out of control. The whole office heard you and Sadie going at it like crazy yesterday, but nobody wanted to say anything. I hid among the filing and came sooo~ many times listening to the two of you. May I come in? I've got some fried vegetable frittatas in case you were hungry."

Sighing with relief and checking his watch again, Sam frowned. "Zee? What are you doing here so early?"

A pair of blocky glasses under a voluminous mass of wavy chocolate hair peeked around the door at him. The shining agate eyes behind them widened as they took in the wreckage before zooming in on Sam's flapping boner.

"Oh my! I--um... brought you breakfast. Sadies not here, is she?"

She ducked into the room in a very real sense, stooping under the top of the door frame. Zoey had to be pushing seven feet in height with the dynamic physique of a warrior princess if those battlefield beauties wore shredded spandex and sported stupendous breasts which could double as flotation devices.

The towering brunette was all but rupturing her way out of a set of sherbert orange leggings and a matching running top. The elasticated athleticwear was rending and laddering across her impressive body like cheap nylon stockings rather than the durable polymer fabric it was, exposing lashings of dense muscle and soft curves of pale, perfect flesh.

Her powerful thighs could have crushed a mountain of skulls, and Sam imagined bouncing a fortune off butt-cheeks so round and hard they looked like two half coconuts stuffed down the backside of her tights.

Zoey's statuesque figure broadcasted strength and femininity on every wavelength, topped with an adorably cute, innocent face that was blushing bashfully as she held out a styrofoam container towards Sam.

"Sadie? No... Hey, you brought food?" His stomach grumbled, sending a reminder that his cock wasn't the only organ wanting attention. "Gimme, thanks!"

Snatching the container, he plonked back down on the lounge and tore into the crispy vegetable pancakes. They weren't hot and lacked the protein Sam dearly craved, but they were plentiful and, more importantly, right in front of him.

Zoey beamed as he ate, then began twiddling her thumbs as her wandering stare returned to his free-flying erection.

"So... um, since I--I... uh, made you breakfast..." She stammered, licking her lips and nervously fiddling with a long strand of coffee-colored hair. "I thought that... um, maybe you could feed me too?"

Sam paused mid-mastication, canting his head to one side and following her fixed gaze down to his crotch.

"Oh, that?" He shrugged, then started chewing again. "Sure, knock yourself out, slut. I was about to jack one out in the bathroom, but if you're volunteering..."

He let his words trail off, and Zoey shivered with excitement, dropping to all fours to crawl between his spread knees. Her ginormous sports bra-clad tits dragged along the carpet, thick ass waggling like a happy tail as the salty scent of a stiff cock swept over her.

"I got here just in time then." She whispered, running a moist lick from base to tip and gathering up the heady flavor with a heartfelt moan. "Thanks for the meal--glormph~!"

Her mouth was immediately full when Sam bucked his hips and shoved himself to the back of her slender throat in a single, swift movement. Zoey's eyes rolled up into her skull when she tasted the first spurts of his scrumptious seed impact her tonsils, a dark patch of arousal blossoming over the puffy cleft in her ripped leggings.

"Sorry, Zee, but I really need to get off. You don't mind, right? You're still my dirty little slut?" Sam spoke with his mouth full. "My cum-thirsty giantess who loves sucking dick?"

"Mm-hmm!" The mighty brunette hummed eagerly around his beefy shaft before swallowing his cockhead whole.

Her enlarged status sure came in handy. Sam's massive manhood was no joke, but Zoey's bigger build meant she could better handle its obscene dimensions. Even so, she choked and gagged softly as she sloppily forced more of him into her narrow esophagus.

"Ack.. Ack.. Ack!"

"Jeezus-fuck, Zee! That feels amazing." Sam cried, tossing the food aside to grab hold of her ears. "Come on, you can take more. Be a good cocksucker and take it all down your whore throat."

Zoey gurgled and groaned, shuddering in his grip as he plumbed her drolling lips with short but firm strokes. The damp stain on her crotch spread, leaking girly nectar onto the carpet. She was literally shaking in climax while Sam forcibly fucked her slavering mouth.

He wasn't sure she would take the entire length or if he could hold back long enough to give her a sporting chance. The shaggy-haired accountant was scooting the edge of a tremendous release already, and his churning balls were telegraphing their final notice.

"Shit, shit! Almost there, that's a good little slut... only a few more inches..."

"Mmmnph!"

The finish line was in sight, and Sam thought they wouldn't make it when strong hands latched onto his flexing rump and yanked him bodily into Zoey's cock-stuffed face.

Sam yelped in surprise when she finally smooched his base. The rippling muscles of her neck massaged his obstinate rigidity as she gulped and blew hot air out her nose.

"Whoa, gawd! Zee, that's... fuck, I'm cumming!"

That was all the warning Sam could give before he erupted directly into her starving belly.

Spots danced in his vision, and the world was reduced to a pinprick next to the overwhelming surge of euphoria that racked the young stud as he unleashed an unholy amount of virile seed for the breath-taking Amazon to guzzle down.

Zoey struggled valiantly, devouring great wads of his creamy load with gleeful moans until she hiccuped and a gooey white line shot from her nose.

"Glurp~!" She burped loudly, coming up for air and catching the last few gloopy spurts on her spit-covered chin. "Like... wow, Sam. That was a lot. Totally what I needed, the perfect vegan breakfast milkshake."

She sounded drunk, and her normally bright eyes were glazed. Swaying in place between his spread knees, Zoey scooped the sticky excess off her vapidly grinning face and licked her fingers clean, savoring the salty flavor. Drooping strings of saliva connected her plump lips to her even plumper chest as she giggled and slapped his undiminished stiffness against her rosy cheeks.

"Yeah," Sam agreed wearily, slumping back onto the couch. "Vegan milkshake, just like you said."

He remained rock-solid but didn't care anymore. There were worse fates, such as living the life of a nerdy dweeb who was scared of his own shadow and didn't pound puss with a super-sized wang.

Had that really been him a few days ago?

Any lingering concerns fled Sam's thoughts when Zoey began lapping up his dribbling spend and tonguing the engorged crown of his dauntless dick, greedily coaxing out more.

"Jeezus, you really are a hungry slut, aren't you?" He growled, noticing the pleased shiver run through her mega-stacked body at the bawdy words.

"Ah-ha, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a growing girl."

________________

"Remember what we practiced, and don't screw this up, Dummy." Tammy hissed as she and Claire clopped out of the elevator together.

"Stop calling me that. I'm... um, like... fully smarter than you, Tams." The platinum-blonde bleated piteously. "Wait... are we on the right floor? What number is this?"

Claire was looking around in anxious confusion, sparkling bottle-green eyes growing wide under preposterous batwing lashes. She chewed at her pillowy lower lip, puzzling over the building directory on the wall beside them.

It had the floor number clearly displayed in bold, seven-inch font at the top of the sign.

"What floor--are you fucking with me?" The shorter woman fumed and pointed a black-lacquered fingernail down the hallway. "It's the same floor you work on every day. The office door is right there. Don't go all tits for brains on me now, Nitwit. We worked on this plan all night."

After their voyeuristic viewing of the Sam and Sadie Sextacular--ignoring some very lewd noises coming from the maze of filing cabinets--the two senior accountants were all but foaming at the pussy over their previously underestimated and presently overachieving male colleague.

They had clung to each other, heavily-painted faces pressed together as they peeked through the crack in the door. Their heated bodies jostled and rubbed against one another--Tammy's smaller, lither form sinking into Claire's soft, luscious curves--as they shared a front-row seat to the award-worthy fuck of the century.

Sam had performed like a prize stallion, a fusion-powered sex machine that could dispense screaming orgasms as though they were candy on Halloween night.

...and that bossy cunt Sadie had hogged him all to herself.

But Sam had said something about finding the idea of them being girlfriends hot. Claire had asked about it, and even his half-mumbled response remained burnt in Tammy's memory.

The two adversaries would have to become intimately acquainted allies if they wanted a piece of that hard-dicking action.

So Tammy had dragged the generously proportioned blonde back to her uptown apartment and laid out her scheme... the aptly named "Girlfriend Gambit."

They would join forces, shore up each other's shortcomings, and take a two-pronged approach to hunt the greatest game of all: that uber-hung studmuffin named Sam.

They had raided their much-expanded wardrobes for the tiniest, kinkiest outfits imaginable, modeling various heeled sandals and boots in order of ascending height and experimenting with different ways of styling their long, color-altered hair.

It had been Claire who suggested the kissing drills.

That led to making out in front of the mirror in rehearsal to catch Sam's eye the next day. Trying out different poses and angles to capture the best visuals, hot bodies and moist lips melting together as they moaned out his name in yearning unison. Needy slits dripping with desire as they ground together for him.

"Oh, Sammy..."

Later they found themselves on Tammy's bed, lying in each other's arms. Claire was so warm and soft that the petite Asian had let herself sink blissfully into the bodacious blonde's embrace. Silky legs entwined, tongues exploring, and fiddling fingers probing deep into slick wetness, climaxing repeatedly with that same name foremost on their giddy brains.

"Oooh, Sammy!"

Between the pussy-juicing, sheet-clawing moments, they constructed a shared fantasy. One in which they were girlfriends of a sort, drawn to one another by their mutual devotion to Sam and his mouth-watering member. Giggling and gasping like lovestruck school girls at a sleepover, mooning over their teen heart-throb crush as they flicked each other's pearls and tittered in lewd speculation.

"Gawd, can you imagine what it'll feel like once he shoves that monster inside you? It's all I think about."

"He's going to love your hair, Tams. The red streaks in your bangs are, like, sooo~ cute."

"Only if he can drag his eyes away from your jumbo hooters long enough to see them, Claire. Do you think our Sammy is a tit man?"

"Probably, most guys are... but your boobs are totally, like, not small anymore either."

Claire hadn't been wrong. Even as Tammy guided her troublingly innumerate companion away from the elevators, she could feel the unfamiliar bounce and sway of fresh weight on her chest, threatening to unbalance her steps.

Who knew that large tits were so sensitive or shifted about so much? Walk at any pace faster than a smooth glide, and they bounced about like two cats fighting in a sack.

They were presently squashed like two ivory grapefruits into the low-swooping neckline of an explicitly abbreviated cheongsam dress. Obsidian satin held together by straps of white ribbon crisscrossing up the sides and under her ripened bosom snuggled Tammy's otherwise trim torso, ending high enough on her slim, porcelain thighs to reveal the lacy black garter belt and embroidered tops of her spinnerette stockings.

Dark, spiky platform pumps adorned her tiny feet--granting her a much-needed six inches of additional height--while fishnet gloves and a studded leather choker decorated her elegant hands and neck in bands of midnight.

She and Claire had done each other's makeup for the first time with the help of a few YouTube tutorials. Inky mascara and eyeshadow made Tammy's almond eyes look disproportionately large and round in her delicate, doll-like face. The charcoal matte on her pert, cupid bow lips contrasted with the pale powder dusting her sharp cheekbones, giving her the nearly cartoonish appearance of an unusually buxom lolita.

Better than some brainless, blonde bimbo, she supposed.

The thought was uncharitable, but there was really no other way to describe Claire.

Her frenemy-turned-lover was essentially a platinum-haired Barbie with miles of golden-tanned legs, gravity-free knockers that went into next week, and a ghetto-class booty that could make a corpse stand to attention.

Any remaining chub in her soft belly, waist, and limbs (along with most of her brain cells) had magically flowed into her already prodigious curves overnight, turning the once-snarky senior number-cruncher into a babbling airhead touting an outrageous pornstar figure and the mental prowess of the average village idiot.

All that eye-candy goodness was poured into a gauzy, hot pink playsuit sparkling with violet sequins that showed off Claire's succulent derriere like a pair of tiny hotpants and a halter neck stretched thin under the burden of her enormous endowments.

A thick magenta rhinestone belt was slung from her hourglass waist at a coquettish angle with a large decor buckle glittering at the front. Equally pinkified cowgirl boots and a fluffy stetson hat finished out the ranchhouse fuckdoll look.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Claire whined, nervously curling a strand of white gold down into her sunkissed cleavage. "I don't want to miss him."

"Where else would he be on a workday?" Tammy shot back, staring enviously at the blonde's rubbery nipples pressing through the insubstantial fabric of her flirty romper. "Sadie's been browbeating us all week about tax season. She can't afford to lock Sammy in her secret sex dungeon just yet."

"Oh my gosh! Do you think she would, like, actually do that?"

"No! I mean... probably not? We're getting off track here. Repeat the game plan back to me so I know you haven't forgotten."

Claire straightened to attention, shoulders back and tits puffed out as she performed a parade ground salute.

"We're going in hot as lesbian girlfriends, which is, like, also totally hot. If we see Sammy and his fat, breedable cock, one of us distracts the rest of the girls while the other drags him into the bathroom and, like, gets her brains totally fucked out."

Tammy palmed her face, careful not to smudge anything.

It was the basic, bare-bones version of the original plan and lacked much of the nuance and detail she had worked into the overall scheme, but it would do in a pinch.