Having Fun

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: Yes, I need an editor. No, I do not want an editor. If this fact bothers you that much, kindly stop reading now. Yes, there's too many people to keep track of, yes it jumps around too much, yes it's too long, yes it's too short, yes this is stupid shit and yes I am a horrible writer, hardly legible, barely literate.

This is a flash story.

Ayla Prejean said she was fat. She wasn't fat, probably had fifteen to twenty extra pounds on her. Since most of the excess weight was in her bubble butt and in her thighs, it actually looked good on her.

She had long carrot orange hair and a plethora of freckles all over her five foot three inch tall body. George had made her squeal with mock indignation when he suggested that she let him count all of them. That had been on their second date. He had lightly begun running a fingertip over her jawline and cute little pointed chin and then started counting the freckles he could see.

After her squeal and light slap, she had kissed him. It was a soft kiss, with promises of more.

The 'more' took another date with the adorable red head, some good marijuana and a fifth of Bacardi Rum. And he had tried his best to count her beautiful freckles. Even her pasty white buttocks were dusted with the reddish brown freckles.

George Austin was thrusting his seven inches into her as she knelt on his bed. Each stroke in caused her cute butt to jiggle. Each stroke back caused her tight pussy lips to pullout. It looked as if her pussy was reluctant to let go of his fat cock on his outstroke.

George took his left hand off of Ayla's hip and reached around to again play with her small breasts. This elicited a moan from her. He left her small bobbling breasts and travelled over her small belly to her sparsely covered slit.

"Oh know what that shit does to me," she grunted as he again flicked her clitoris with his finger.

He gathered some moisture on his finger and then brought it up to her tightly puckered rosebud. The reddish brown ring of flesh was crinkled as tightly as she could squeeze it.

"Oh, baby, what you doing?" she asked, but she knew what he was doing.

He began by worming the lubricated finger into her rosebud. The ring of flesh seemed to swallow his finger, like a mouth. He twisted the finger in her bowels, twisting and corkscrewing it around.

"Mm! Mm!" she groaned deep in her throat as another orgasm welled up in her guts.

George continued to push his cock into her snug pussy. He pulled his finger out of her ass. Then, when he pushed his finger into her ass, he pulled his cock out of her pussy. Her pussy had increased in pressure, as if she was trying to coax an ejaculation from him before he could work his fat cock into her tight little ass.

They'd been together for almost two years now. Ever since he'd come into Stolzle's Shoes where she was a part-time clerk and bought a 12EE construction work boot.

The first time he'd fucked her, he'd managed to pound her to three grunting, moaning orgasms. Then he had pulled his still quite hard cock out of her drooling pussy and brought it to her tight little hole.

"I don't, man, what you doing? I ain't never done that no," she protested, even though he'd been finger fucking her ass for two of her last three orgasms.

At first she protested, she whined, she begged him to stop. Then she'd stiffened and let out a guttural scream. She spent the next ten seconds grunting and shaking in orgasm.

Then, when her orgasm subsided, Ayla had implored him to fuck her, driving herself back to meet his forward thrusts. Her pussy had been quite tight, the nineteen year old girl had admitted she had not had much experience.

It was almost cute, how she tried to avoid anal sex, even though she liked it. Ayla had admitted to him, when they'd both smoked some really potent Acapulco Gold that afterward, she always felt like a cheap slut. Someone, probably her overly religious mother, had told her that only whores ever did anal sex. Oral sex was almost as filthy, as wanton.

George nodded his head in understanding. And, truthfully, Ayla was terrible at oral sex. She couldn't get her throat to relax enough; she could only get about four inches into her mouth before she started gagging. Violently gagging. And her teeth were always in the way.

She grunted in orgasm again when he'd worked a second finger into her anus. Then he pulled his cock from her pussy and aimed it at her ass.

Her pussy was tight. Her ass was excruciatingly tight. The first time he'd shoved his cock into her back door, his rod had actually bent nearly in half.

"Ugh!" she always grunted as if she was in true pain when his head forced into her back door.

George paused for a moment, thinking of the last Worlds' Series, inning by inning. Then he forced another inch into her.

"God, oh God, you, you're fucking killing me yeah," Ayla moaned.

Even as she protested, she was slowly pushing back against his invading cock.

"Then in the bottom of the fourth," George thought as more and more of his cock disappeared into her tight ass.

He did not look down. He loved the sight of his thick cock pushing in between the globes of her pasty white flesh, loved the sight of her brown ring stretching to accommodate his girth. But the sight was sure to bring his spunk bubbling to the surface far too quickly.

Then the scruff of his pubic hair was resting against her stretched and raw hole. They both shuddered and gasped for breath.

"Nuh uh, aw shit!" Ayla protested when George reached around and began playing with her wet pussy.

And in moments, he was driving his cock in and out of her ass. She was driving back to meet his forward thrusts. His fingers flicked at her clitoris until his balls tightened. Then he pinched her clitoris while his semen blasted into her bowels.

She gave a guttural scream as she could feel his warm semen jetting into her. She grunted and shook then moaned when his cock slipped from her aching hole.

George got to shaky legs, went into his bathroom and wet a face cloth. She was still grunting and gasping when he gently sponged her bruised looking anus clean of the dribbles oozing from her hole.

George then cleaned his soiled cock. He dropped the filthy wash cloth onto his nightstand and reached for a tightly rolled joint. He sparked it up and they lay back in his bed and smoked the joint.

"Oh, oh, how's that new bank coming?" she asked, letting a thin wisp of smoke out of her lungs.

"Fucking electrician's taking his sweet ass time putting in the fixtures," George complained. But can't put up the dropped ceiling until he's finished so we're all standing around with our dicks in our hands."

They kissed and George lightly played with her small breasts. Ayla hated that she only filled a 30A bra, but George told Ayla he thought her tits were perfect. They were also well dotted with freckles, and had large areolae and nipples that seemed always excited.

"Hey, I uh, you uh, you ever think about us, you know, getting married?" George blurted out.

"I uh, what?" Ayla asked.

"Married, maybe having two point four kids," George said.

He looked around the small apartment. It was a one bedroom apartment in the Bender Community Apartment complex. They were fairly new, having been built right after St. Elizabeth Trauma Center opened. The Bender, Louisiana area had been on the verge of dying after the Baggett Mattress Factory had shut its doors, but the hospital brought the community roaring back.

"I mean, we'll buy a house, a small one at first," George said, getting excited with the idea. "There's them really nice ones out in Kimble."

"I uh, what? I mean, married?" Ayla said, stomach knotting up.

She then winced as the joint burned her fingers.

"Yeah, you and me," George said.

"I uh, God, I was hoping," Ayla mumbled.

"We'll go down to David's and get you a ring," George said.

"Baby, listen, hey, we ain't got do all that, huh?" Ayla said, putting a small hand on his handsome face.

He was a handsome man, with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned square face. He was muscular, from working with his hands, with his arms and his back.

He was not a native of the greater DeGarde area, having moved to the area when the construction boom started. He had family in Oakleaf, Texas. But he rarely spoke about them, rarely spoke to them. Whenever he did, it seemed that his mother needed money, his father was disappointed in him for not going to college, and his sister didn't want to talk with him at all.

George stared at Ayla, confused. They'd been together now for two years. He thought she loved him, thought they had a really good thing going. It just seemed logical to him that the next step would be marriage.

"Listen, Baby, I'm just not, I ain't there, know?" Ayla said.

She took a deep breath.

"Fuck, I'm just not ready settle down me," she said.

"I don't, I mean, why you don't want settle down?" George asked.

"I mean, shit, you going be all right I go out with Frankie? And Elroy?" Ayla asked.

"Wait, who?" George asked.

"I mean, you my number one yeah, but I ain't just telling them they got to go," Ayla said.

"Wait, just wait," George said, getting angry. "Wait a fucking minute. Frankie? And Elroy?"

"See? That why I don't say nothing no, I knew you'd get all messed up," Ayla said.

She touched his chest with her hand.

"But you still my number one yeah," she said.

He shoved her hand off of him. He got to his feet and started to get dressed.

"What? What you doing huh?" she asked.

"Uh, listen, maybe you need get going, know what I mean?" he spat.

"See that why I don't say nothing, you getting all mad and ain't nothing get all mad about" Ayla said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Uh, hey, Honey, need get dressed. I mean, been fun, know? But uh, you need get on out of here, all right?" George said harshly.

"I ain't going nowhere me," she said.

George knew, if he put his hands on her, it would not be pleasant. She bruised easily as it was, and if he did grip her, he would grip her hard. There would certainly be marks where his fingers squeezed her.

"Look, bitch, need get dressed and get on out," George ordered.

"No, I done told you, I ain't going nowhere," she said.

He finished dressing and left his bedroom.

"Uh, yes ma'am, there's a woman in my apartment. We had sex and now she refuses to leave," Ayla heard George saying.

"George, who you talking to?" Ayla called out.

"Police," George called back. I told you get dressed and go. You refused to go, so I called the police."

Ayla already had two possession charges on her record. The police would certainly smell the remnants of their marijuana smoke in the small apartment. Then they'd search her purse and find the two ounces of Bahama Black she had on her.

"Fine, fucking ass hole, I'm going yeah," Ayla snarled.

"Never mind, officer, she's getting dressed now, but thank you," George said.

"I call you, okay?" Ayla said as she shuffled out of the bedroom.

"Uh, no, no you won't," George said.

"What?" she asked.

"Hey, you been fucking God knows who, shit, going have go down to the free clinic, get my ass tested for whatever you been bringing around," George said.

"Aw, now you ain't got be like that no!" Ayla cried out.

"What? I don't?" George thundered. "You been fucking God knows how many people behind my back and I don't need to worry about it? Get out, just get out, all right? Just go."

"Fine! Fine, it mean that much to you, yeah, all right, we get married, all right?" Ayla shrilled.

"What? Really? Really think I'd marry you? Now I know you ain't nothing but a ho?" George laughed bitterly.

She tried to kiss him but he moved his head out of the way. He forcefully swatted her hands away when she tried to hug him.

Ayla gave George a few days to cool down and tried calling him. Her call went straight to voice mail. She was sure as soon as he saw that the voice mail was from her, he would delete it, so she didn't leave a message.

George did go into the free clinic and did get tested. He wasn't that surprised when his results were that he had Chlamydia. George told the nurse practitioner that the only person he'd had sex with was Ayla Prejean, and gave the nurse practitioner Ayla's phone number and email address.

"In the past year? That's the only person you been having sex with? Good looking boy like you?" the woman asked.

"You offering?" George teased.

"Uh huh, and you believing that too huh?" she giggled.

Ayla was horrified when the clinic called. At first she refused to divulge whom she'd had sex with in the past year. The nurse practitioner also pointed out the high levels of THC in her blood, so Ayla caved.

Elroy's wife, Clara was one unhappy woman and Ayla got a pretty serious ass whipping out in the parking lot of Stolzle's Shoes. Tom Stolzle's hosing Clara down with a fire extinguisher saved Ayla from an even bloodier beating. As it was, she walked around with a broken nose and two black eyes for nearly two weeks.

Under threat of lawsuit, Clara, and Elroy did pay for Ayla's reconstructive surgery.

Frankie shrugged off having the sexually transmitted disease. The man believed himself to be a player, and being a player meant that, every now and then, an STD would crop up.

But he refused to have anything to do with the skank that gave the STD to him.

"Help you?" the young woman asked when she opened the door of Apartment 1C.

She kept the security chain on, peering at Ayla through the gap.

"I uh, hey, George here?" Ayla asked.

"Who?" the woman asked.

"George, George Austin, he living here," Ayla said.

"No, no, guess that was who lived her before; I just moved in last week," the woman said.

"You uh, you know where he gone to?" Ayla asked, stomach dropping.

"No, maybe landlord might," the woman said. "Office is down in the second building."

The office manager refused to give Ayla any information, though. Ayla stepped out of the office, then sat on the stoop.

When she'd found out she had the STD, she also found out she was pregnant. Seven weeks, by their best guess.

Elroy wanted nothing to do with Ayla Prejean; he and his wife were trying to repair the damage to their marriage. And Frankie, how had she ever fallen for his line of shit? Frankie just laughed in her face when she'd told him of her pregnancy.

"Shit, ain't mine," he chortled almost gleefully. "Anyway, like I know how many mother fuckers you been fucking?"

George had asked her to marry him. George had loved her, loved all of her. George had loved her stringy red hair, her freckled face, her itty bitty titties, her big ass.

And she had thrown that away because she'd thought she was having fun fucking Frankie, and Elroy, and George, and every now and then a random cute customer of Stolzle's Shoes.

"Twenty one and knocked up; yeah you having you all kind of fun," Ayla said aloud.

She got to her feet, walked to the 'Visitor' parking space.

"And what your momma going say, huh?" she asked as she started her car.

The Kimble Associated Credit Union building had been completed. Ayla didn't know what project the crew might be working on now; she didn't even remember which company George had been working with. He did sheetrock installation so was fairly independent.

She honestly didn't even know if he was still in the greater DeGarde area. Her last phone call to his cell phone had garnered the mechanical announcement that the number had been changed or was no longer in service.

"Yeah, you having you all kind of fun, huh?" Ayla said as she turned the car onto the clam shell driveway of her mother's trailer home. "Might as well see what Mother Theresa going say about this. Like she ain't never sinned, huh?"

THE END

Like I said, a flash story. And it's in 'Loving Wives' because there is no 'Loving Girlfriends' category on this site.

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my stories.

Have a super swell day.