Fi Ch. 04: Mike's Problem

Mike had been staying away from his apartment. There were just too many memories there. Since the breakup, he just couldn't sleep there, he couldn't eat there, he didn't even like to sit on the sofa there without Mel.

Bumping into Pete had been like finding treasure in the basement. An unbelievable stroke of luck. Even so, he didn't actually expect Pete to let him sofa surf. They had been buddies once, but not close friends. It wasn't even all that recently, over a year had passed since the last time they had even spoken.

Pete had let him stay at his place for a few days. Mike was blown away. He knew for sure, has the tables been turned, he wouldn't have done the same for Pete. Not even for one night.

That was why, when Pete's girl had swung by, Mike decided to give them a few hours. He knew how it was when your girl came to visit but your buddies were round. Although, he thought, sadly, that wouldn't be happening to him anymore.

He'd come back to his own place, hoping that a few days away might have dulled the pain. Now, as the key slid into the apartment door and the memories rushed back, he realised that the feelings were still as agonising as ever.

"Hi, honey," he mumbled, sadly, half expecting to be greeted by Melissa. That was over, too.

He took his coat off and reached up to hang it, but stopped in his tracks. Mel's scarf was hanging there, the one that he'd bought for her last winter. Was it- maybe she had left it behind because it was Mike who had bought it? No, that was just his mind playing tricks. It wasn't that kind of break up, and she wasn't that kind of girl.

In the living room were two glasses. One had been there since the night before he bumped into Pete. The other, about a week before that. The lipstick mark, still on the rim, and the stain of red wine in the bottom of the glass told the story of how it was last used, and the reason it was still here.

"I hope it's all going all right for you," Mike lamented.

He stood and stared at that glass for a long while, thinking about the last time Melissa had been there. Thinking about what had happened. Thinking about the end. He didn't know how long he stood there, lost in his thoughts. Lost.

An alarm in the street below roused him. The wine for Fi was in the kitchen. He should go and get it.

He took a little time to clean up in his apartment. There were still parts of her here that he couldn't let go. He didn't move the scarf. He didn't clean the glass. He didn't change his bed. And in the end, he didn't take the wine. Melissa's wine.

He decided to go to the store instead.

Back at Pete's place, after a marathon sex session which had ended with Fi's face and tits pasted with Pete's porridge, Fi had gone for a shower. Pete had started cooking while Fi was in the shower, and by the time she'd come out he was putting food into the oven. He tagged in, heading for the shower and leaving Fi to clean the living room up.

"I'm back!" bellowed Mike, lugging two crates of beer, two boxes of wine and a bottle of rum into the house with him. Maybe I did go a little overboard, he thought.

"Through here," Fi shouted back from the living room. By now, she had picked up the empty beer cans that were strewn around, both by the boys, and during her and Pete's afternoon delight. She had also wiped the aftermath of that delightful depravity off of the sofa a bit. The sofa was still a bit damp, so she was just now putting a throw over it.

"Can you give me a hand with this," Mike asked, struggling through the living room door.

"Of course," Fi answered, as she was tucking in the last of the throw. She took the two wine boxes from the top.

"Thanks, Mel," he said, without thinking.

They both stopped like statues for a moment. He'd called her Mel. Fi looked, sadly, into his eyes. An apology hung in the air, awkwardly.

"Kitchen?" she said, breaking the tension.

"Kitchen," he agreed.

In the kitchen, Fi directed him where to put the beer down and then stood in front of him, before he could escape.

"I think you need to talk about it," she insisted.

"I... know." His shoulders slumped. "Just... give me some time."

"Sure," she agreed, putting her hand on his arm and looking into his eyes. "Just... don't take too long."

When Pete came into the room, wearing sweatpants and a basketball shirt, Mike and Fi were sitting on the sofa. Fi had a glass of red wine, which was a little uncharacteristic, and Mike had a beer. They had the stereo on, and it was playing Beyonce. Fi's choice, probably.

"Hey guys," he said, amiably.

"Yo, Pete," Mike said, cheerfully. "There's a beer in the fridge."

"Thanks man."

He grabbed a beer and sat on the armchair. It didn't see much use, these days. He'd forgotten how comfy it was.

Fi had thrown on a summer dress that she had left behind after getting soaked a while back. She didn't have a lot of clothes here, but she had a few things. Pete remembered the day she had left that dress here.

What he remembered, really, was how she had been flashing him her bare pussy at every opportunity while they were out, and almost as soon as he got her inside, he had bent her over and got inside her. That kind of thing, where he lost control or got forceful, had a crazy effect on her, and she was goading him while he screwed her from behind.

"Fuck me like an animal," was one of the ones he remembered. "Am I a bitch or what?"

He ended up cumming all up her back, and the dress was drenched with it. His dick was hard now, just thinking about it.

She had gone home wearing one of his football shirts, after trying on a basketball top. This basketball top, actually, the one he was wearing now. The straps didn't even cover her nipples. Her tits were amazing. That shirt got soaked, too...

"Look at my tits," she had demanded. "This shirt is perfect. I can see your cock agrees."

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her big, firm tits under the shoulder straps of the basketball shirt. He was standing, looking down at her, still wearing nothing but his shirt after tearing off his pants and screwing Fi as soon as he'd got indoors. His dick was already pointing upwards when she grabbed hold of it and pulled him close.

"Bring me that meat," she had snarled, "for between these buns."

What had followed was amazing. She had placed his now throbbing cock between her wonderful breasts and jerked him off with them. The enduring image that remained in his head of that moment was of her looking up into his eyes with a string of saliva running from her bottom lip to the gap between her mams where his glans was poking out.

When he'd cum, she had looked down to get sprayed, and let everything drip down over her. When he jacked off, he often pictured that scene.

He scratched his nuts, adjusting himself and hoping that his guests didn't notice his daydream, or indeed the hard-on that had come about as a consequence. It didn't look like they had, anyway.

The three of them chatted happily for hours, joking and drinking and laughing and reminiscing. Pete almost forgot about the food he'd put in the oven, but it wasn't too badly burned, so they all ate some, then got back to drinking.

After a couple of beers, Pete noticed that Fi was getting a little tipsy, so he slowed down a little. He started to remember that she had been a little sick last time she drank wine here.

Now and again, Mike would look wistfully at Fi's wine glass, or gaze blankly out of the window, or sigh at the thought of his ex girlfriend. It wouldn't be long before they brought him back around, though, with a joke or a different memory.

At about two am, Pete was in the bathroom. Mike was staring at Fi's wine glass again. Fi, fortified by wine, decided to push her luck.

"What actually happened between you two?" she slurred, drunkenly imagining that she was being tactful.

"It- well," Mike stammered. Fi had caught him with his guard down. This wasn't an easy subject. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Tell me what happened!" It was obvious that Fi wasn't going to leave it. Mike sighed.

"It's... kind of... personal." His hesitancy just spurred the sloshed girl on.

"You have to talk about it. It's the only way to move forward." The coffee table psychology was enough to start things.

"That's true, I suppose. It was, umm." Even with alcoholic lubrication, the words felt sticky in his throat. "Things weren't, umm, good in the, umm, bedroom."

"What?" Fi blurted. This just didn't add up. Her world view was shaken. If it wasn't good in the bedroom, it was over before it could get started. Even if you waited for sex, how could a girl have such a hold on a guy without being good in the bedroom? She had to be amazing somewhere!

"I mean, she was fine, great even," he quickly explained, shocked at her reaction, "but..." He trailed off, eyes glazed over, looking at her glass with a melancholy look.

"But what?" Fi pressed, taking no notice of his depressed gaze. "Are you about to come out of the closet?"

Mike's jaw dropped. His eyes widened. Things had taken an unexpected turn.

Pete burst out laughing from the doorway.

"Mike The Machine?" He looked at Mike, who was smiling now, too, but rolling his eyes. "The guy who screwed his way through college?"

"You remember that, eh?" Mike chuckled.

"I remember two lecturers who got into some hot water over it." Pete wasn't laughing.

Mike smiled, "Yeah. That was a shame."

"It really was." Pete looked pretty pissed.

"So, what then?" Fi interrogated, oblivious to the atmosphere change. "If she was great, and you're some kind of sex machine, how can it be bad in the bedroom?" She slapped her hand down on the sofa. "And how come you're so broken up about it, player?"

"Wow, Fi," said Pete, his issue forgotten, "don't hold back."

"Nah, nah," Mike said with a wry smile. "I have to let it out eventually."

"Yeah, you do!" Fi blurted. The wine had certainly taken its toll on her. Mike gave her a look, and she put her hands up in surrender, then made a zipping motion on her lips. He smiled, then took a deep breath.

"Ok. Let's do this." There was a pause. Mike might have been gathering his thoughts, or maybe hoping something or someone would take the attention of the room away from him. Or that the ground would swallow him up. A meteor strike, something like that. Unfortunately it did not. He sighed.

"I really thought we were going to be something. She was interested in my work, which most people aren't. She liked the same music as me. We just... got on."

Mike and Fi exchanged a sad look.

"We tried, you know? Different positions. Lubrication. I used to work on her till she was good and ready."

"Everything else was amazing. She was smart and funny and we had great times together for months. Everything except sex. She did all she could to avoid it." He looked at Pete. "I used to get a lot of head."

"Wait," Fi interrupted. "What are you saying here?"

"Well," Mike took a deep breath. "Melissa was always uncomfortable after sex with me. A lot of girls are at first, but mostly they get used to it. Mel? Well, she was certainly tight."

"I think I might be drunk," laughed Fi, "because I don't think you are saying anything. Get to the point!"

"Okay, okay, all right." Mike held his hands up. "I'll just come out and say it. My dick is too big for her. She walked out on me because every time we had sex, she felt sore for days."

Now it was Fi's turn for her jaw to drop.

"Bullshit!" she exclaimed. "No dick is that big! Felt it for days, my ass."

"Your girl's a size queen, bro." Mike laughed. Pete joined in.

"Just as well I'm above average, then."

Fi laughed. A little bit worried that she might have put her foot in it, she stumbled over and sat on Pete's knee.

"More than a little above average, honey," she complimented, following up with a kiss.

"Can we change the subject away from the size of each other's packages?" chuckled Mike. "How bout them Mets?"

"I was kinda enjoying that conversation," Fi complained quietly.

"You would," Pete laughed. "Mets are like... Baseball?"

"What, you don't like Baseball?"

Pete shook his head. "Basketball and Football. No sticks."

"Oh shiiit!" Mike exclaimed, moving over to where Fi had been sitting. So began the sports debate that took them to around 4am. Fi was busy thinking about the fact that Mike was now sitting where the couch was stained with her cum, leaning his arm where her cum covered tits had deposited sticky semen. Wondering if he would smell her when he slept. And wondering if his dick could really be so big that it hurt.

"Soccer or Football?" she asked at one point, trying to join in.

"Football!" both men shouted.

"That's not even a debate," Mike smiled. "Basketball, mind you," he continued, "that can be compared to Soccer."

"Woah, woah, woah," Pete cut in, "let's not get insulting."

By around four, four thirty, Fi was almost asleep on Pete's lap. Mike was laid out on the sofa, even though it wasn't long enough to accommodate his height. They were all ready for a sleep.

Pete picked Fi up like he was crossing the threshold with his new bride, and carried her to bed. Five minutes later, she stumbled, drunkenly to the bathroom.

Mike was in the living room, looking for his sleeping bag. He had taken off his pants and was wearing a loose pair of boxer shorts.

"Pete?" He asked, quietly, "Is that you?"

"It's me, Fi," she whispered conspiratorially. "I need to pee!" She laughed, and it echoed in the hall. A guilty look crossed her face, and she put a hand to her mouth.

Mike tried to ignore her drunken state.

"Do you know where my sleeping bag went?" He asked.

"Sleeping bag?" Confused, she walked into the light of the living room. Mike could now see that she was wearing the college football jersey from Pete's school. It was a number of sizes too big for her, and hung so far off her shoulder that the edge of her areola was peeking over the neck.

What was more, the material had little holes all over it for ventilation. Mike could see that she had nothing underneath. Just hints of her nipples, shadows of her thighs and what lay between. It was enough to start hardening his dick, even after a long session of alcohol abuse.

"Sleeping bag," he said, forcing himself to look her in the eye and expecting a look of disapproval at his checking her out when their eyes met. Her eyes didn't meet his, she wasn't looking at his face either. Mike grinned, he'd seen this look before. Pete's girl was staring, open mouthed, at his boxer shorts.

What a bulge! There was no question, those boxer shorts were concealing a huge weapon. What was more, she thought she could see it steadily growing. If she wasn't about to wet herself, she would have fallen to her knees and pulled it out right there and then. She had to investigate.

"Sleeping bag," she repeated, dumbly. "Wait, yeah, it's here."

There was plenty of room to walk past him on one side, and a path around the sofa which was completely free of manly obstruction, but Fi chose the path which caused their bodies to press together. Mike could have taken a step back, but he did not. He let her squeeze past, measuring him. That is a big, fat schlong, she thought. I need to get hold of it, and soon.

Now, after squeezing through the small gap, she walked around the sofa into the spacious area in front of it. At the coffee table, she had her body between Mike and the TV. The light from the TV shone through the ventilation in the football jersey, and silhouetted her curves. Mike tried not to drool. Even more so, when she bent over to reach under the table.

Not by accident, Mike had the perfect view of her outlined figure. Fi gave him enough time to appreciate the shape of her ass, the gap between her thighs, how her tits hung beneath her. The temptation was unbearable, to show her how big his dick was right now. He just knew that she wanted to see it, and then...

When she stood up, he had to take his hand away from his crotch. She had the sleeping bag, which she had put under the table when she was tidying up.

She came round the same way as before, despite the open space in front of the table. He didn't catch on that she handed him the sleeping bag at the exact height of her tits, and when she squeezed past this time, she faced towards him. Tits pressed against his hands as she passed, staring deeply into his eyes. He had to remind himself that this was his friend's drunk girlfriend. Again. Mike was certain that he felt a hand on his dick, too.

Fi had drunkenly tried to pop a button on his shorts as she passed, only to find that there weren't any. It was definitely big though. Bigger than Pete. Jamal big. Maybe even bigger. Her mind was made up. She would find out.

About half an hour later, Pete went into the bathroom and carried her sleeping form back to bed. Wine did funny things to her.

Fi woke up with a burning gut, a headache and a fuzzy recollection of the night before. Wine, she thought. That never goes well. Her stomach twisted into a knot with worry. Did she say anything stupid? Who's bed did she end up in?

The one thing she did know was that there was a big dick involved. It would normally be a safe bet for her, but on this occasion she had the thought in her mind as soon as she woke up.

Big.

Fucking.

Dick.

It made her wet.

She rolled onto her side and felt around with her hand, searching for the treasure in her mind. Before long, a candidate came to hand. It was morning hard, and lengthy. It wasn't super thick, but hardly a twig. It didn't take her much time to identify it as Pete's. When you have as many dicks in your life as Fi, you learn to identify them with your eyes closed.

Her hand moved up and down the shaft, slowly. Morning wood was fun to play with. The repetitive movement was therapeutic. Most of the time, this sort of thing would lead to her having a dick in her mouth but with this hangover, a blowjob was off the cards. Though, she was sure some of the guys she screwed would use her throat in any condition. That might be fun.

In the back of her mind, things started to click together. The dick in her hand wasn't the dick that had her juices flowing. There was a cock of a different calibre involved. Maybe she had been dreaming about Jamal or something?

Meanwhile, Pete began to stir.

"Mmm," he mumbled, "that's nice, sweetie."

"Shh," she whispered. "Mike is sleeping in the living room."

Pete stiffened. Not only his nervous body, but his handy morning wood, too. It was suddenly like an iron rod in her hand. She wondered what had had that effect. Was it the risk of getting caught? If so, it was unexpected that he would get off on that risk. He wasn't a risk kind of guy. Maybe it was something else? She decided to file this tidbit away. It might be useful later.

Cock hungry, Fi laid her head on his bare chest, watching herself jerk Pete's long, juicy dick. It was hypnotic. She really wanted to get closer. Why did she think a blowjob was a bad idea again? Her head moved slightly down his chest. Her mouth moved in time with her hand.

Meanwhile, the wheels were still turning. Mike was the only other guy there. It must be him with the big cock. That only made sense, right? How had she found that out, again?

"It's weird what Mike said, isn't it?" Pete volunteered.

"What did he say?" Fi asked, focussed on the task at hand.

"That he split up with his girl because she couldn't take his dick."

Bingo! Mike was the one with the big dick. She started to recall, vaguely, the outline in his shorts.

"That's bullshit, though, right?" She asked, already feeling her pussy moisten at the prospect.

"I don't know if it would hurt someone, but if the stories I heard were true, Mike is well hung," Pete confirmed, unwittingly setting Fi on the big game trail. "There were a couple of instructors who got fired for fraternising with the student body. That was Mike."