I Don't Like Liars

Some years ago, I wrote a piece called Violet Eyes. I enjoyed the fringe characters in that story, but for some reason I've never really had the urge to revisit them. Until now.

I'm entering this rather un-holiday story in Literotica's annual Holiday Contest. Please read all the entries and vote up your favorites!

* * *

Naturally, I told Kelly all about my glorious fuck-session with Kyle the stripper. She was pretty happy when I met with her, the flushed happiness of a new bride coupled with the anticipation of the honeymoon she'd be leaving for tomorrow; I was glad she'd been able to meet me for coffee after I got off work. "I'm telling you, Kel, the guy was a fucking sasquatch. Biggest dick I've had in months."

"Months?" She eyed me with a smirk. "Your divorce has only been final since August."

"Well. Yes. But we separated last Spring. What, you think I've been a nun since then?" We both laughed hard at that. I had never been close to celibate, not since I'd been nineteen and giving it up over a bar to a thirsty frat kid at a college party. "And even before. I wouldn't say I was a model wife, Kel."

"Yeah." She knew me well. "Which stripper nailed you? The Roman soldier one?"

"Yes. With the monster cock."

She frowned. "The one who fucked up my bra?"

"Yep."

"'Monster cock.'" Kelly shook her head, her gorgeous face showing the briefest of frowns. "He's not all that big, Tara."

My mouth dropped. "You're not thinking straight. Did you see his penis?"

"Yes, bitch. I saw it. I watched it right in front of me, nutting all over my chest," she reminded me. "Nice dick, but not exactly huge, honestly."

I blinked at her. "We're talking about the gladiator."

"Yes."

"With the really massive nutsack."

"Yes."

I shook my head slowly. "You're high. That guy was hung like a fucking stallion."

She toyed with her scone, a smile tugging whimsically at the corner of her mouth. "Well. Maybe it's just that I'm comparing him to what I've been seeing lately." It came out sugary-smug, the voice of a woman who feels like she's better than you on account of the guy she's doing. I took a long sip of my coffee, then arched a plucked eyebrow.

"What are you saying, Kelly?"

She tossed back her hair and looked at me with something of that old vivacity, from back when she'd been Kelly Poftek instead of Kelly Poftek-Raff. That attitude she'd had in college, the one that challenged every other woman around her with the quality of her pussy. I thought she'd lost a lot of that since she'd met her husband. And, speaking of which... "Just between you and me? Aaron is bigger."

I waited a beat, my mind racing. "You're just saying that because you're married to him now." I winked. "You're being a good little wifey."

"Nope." Her lips quirked up into that lopsided smirk of hers. "He's bigger than any of those strippers."

I paused and let that sink in. There'd been three strippers there, plus the manager/DJ. One of them, Steve, had fucked me at a bridal shower the year before; actually, it had been that lay that had made me recommend them to the Maid of Honor. And then that rec had earned me another fuck, from Kyle this time, so I could say I knew their dicks very well. And both had been above the average size, Kyle by a lot. The third guy, whose name was something like Justin, had certainly had a nice one, but he'd gone thicker instead of longer. I could see Kelly's groom outdoing that third guy, definitely. "I met Aaron at the Lake," I pointed out to her. "I've seen him in swim trunks. If he were bigger than Kyle, I'd have noticed."

"Who's Kyle?"

"The one who fucked up your bra."

"Ah." She reflected, then shook her head. "Yeah. He was big. But Aaron is bigger. Take it from a woman who's had both of them cum on her tits."

"No." I thought back to that day by the Lake up at Ray Peak, that first meeting with Aaron. His body, fine but not all that remarkable, the body of a thirtysomething who went to the gym a few times a week and didn't get serious about it. "His suit was wet, babe, and I looked."

"You looked?" she scoffed. "You checked out my fiance's package?"

"Of course I did." I glanced to the sides, past the chintzy Christmas decorations, making sure Samurai's Teahouse was empty enough not to be offended when I reached boldly down and cupped my pussy through my pants. "I always look. You know me. I'll hump anything with a penis."

"Not Aaron, you won't." The smugness returned at double the intensity. "Hands off, girl," she warned, but we both smiled.

"Is that a challenge?" I didn't really think I meant it. We'd stolen men from each other before, a time or two each, but it had always been in good fun. Things were different now. She was married, and since as far as I knew she'd never fucked my ex, that should have put her Aaron off-limits.

But.

That swimsuit bothered me now. I'd been checking him out, of course, as one does. And I was an experienced meatgazer. So it bothered me that Kelly would lie to me about her husband's endowment. Worse, it offended me that she thought she could get away with it. I stirred. "Got a pic?"

She shook her head evenly. "If you think I'm going to show you my husband's cock pic, you're a fucking idiot." She nibbled at her scone. "Besides, no. I don't have one." Now I knew she was lying. What modern woman doesn't have a photo of her man's schlong?

I don't like liars.

"I just don't believe you," I sighed, shaking my head mournfully. "I think this is all just wishful thinking on your part, Kel."

"I mean, whatever." She narrowed her eyes, and I could just tell she was getting ready to hit me where it hurt; that's the kind of woman she was. "Look, Tara, don't get mad at me just because you couldn't keep your man."

I smiled, but slowly. Angrily. With tight control. Because now, I really didn't like this particular liar. A dark thought bloomed in my mind, but I just looked down into my coffee and kept my smile. "You guys still on to help me move when you get back?" They'd be home from their honeymoon before the New Year, my fucking whore of a landlady booting me out before the first of January. But it wasn't supposed to snow before then, and Aaron had a truck, and Kelly knew I'd just shelled out over two thousand dollars to be in her wedding. She owed me.

She yawned. "You reach a point in life where you really ought to start calling movers, Tara."

"Yes. You do. But I'm not there yet." I raised my mug. "I called you. Close enough."

"You called me because you wanted Aaron's truck," she corrected, "and he's the one who'll be doing all the work." We giggled.

"If he does a good job, maybe I'll flash him," I winked.

"Hands off, girl," she snapped again, but it had a rote quality to it. "Just buy him beer. That's plenty." I saw her eyes flicker down to my chest. "Besides, flashing him won't get you very far. I'm bigger."

"You are," I nodded, "but I'm a better lay."

"Yeah," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "but you're certainly not going to be letting Aaron figure that out." We smiled together and took our sips.

* * *

Yep. Kyle the stripper. I remembered Kelly's bachelorette party a couple days later, as I sat around with my vibrator while Kelly and Aaron enjoyed their honeymoon, a flash of Caribbean warmth so that they could spend the holidays all tanned and shit.

Tanned like those strippers had been. I savored the memory, casting my mind back there.

I'd watched, eyes narrowed as they'd pranced in, three of them with confident sneers and bodies cut from stone, smooth and polished and gleaming with oil. All around me the room exploded with shrill feminine screeches, the kind of noise that would leave my ears ringing for the rest of the night. I thought for the ninetieth time how much easier this would be if I was still drinking.

The fact that Kelly was having a December wedding had apparently given the strippers the great idea that they could get away with all sorts of suggestive holiday-themed fun: already, I could see that one of them had mistletoe ready to dangle over his cock, once he pulled it out. I didn't think I remembered that guy from the last time I'd been to a function with these people, but the other two were definitely familiar.

Especially Steve, the one dressed as a doctor. I flushed, sitting there with my legs crossed, as I remembered what he'd done to me that time before, when he'd shown up as private entertainment at my friend Meaghan's bridal shower. He'd left me wrung out on the bed in her guest room, panting after one of the best orgasms of my life, the orgasm that had convinced me it was definitely time to divorce my husband and get back out into the world of singlehood.

Not that being married had closed my legs. But at least it seemed more honest since I'd gotten divorced.

The three men had already spread out through the room, gyrating before the salivating guests like Elvis in his prime, as their boss strolled over to me. "Tara? You're Tara Jordan?"

"In the flesh," I smiled. His glance roamed appreciatively over my body in the way I'd seen from lots of men in my time; when you dress like I do, you tend to get attention. But this guy was serious about it, the appraising eye of a man who'd seen it all and liked me anyway. It gave me a thrill. "Who are you, sexy?"

He smiled, a lazy surfer-dude curl of his lips. "I'm Jerry. I'm the manager. I was given your name on the referral sheet?" He winked. "Are you the one paying?"

I brayed a laugh. "Fuck no. That's Ashlee, the maid of honor." I nodded across to where the unfamiliar-looking guy already had his penis in her mouth. "The one giving head."

"Ah." Jerry gave a diplomatic shrug. "Well, but you're the one who referred us, right?" He smiled. "You get a free private dance for the recommendation."

"No shit!" I sat up, the night suddenly becoming a lot more interesting, my mind nudging my pussy. "How private?"

"As private as you want," he leered, his eyes on my legs, and I couldn't blame him: legs were what I had. And ass, but I was sitting on that and he couldn't see it. "You pick the dancer."

"To dance? And..."

"...and whatever else you and he decide to do." His eyes twinkled. "Any of us will make ourselves available."

I winked. He was not unattractive, but that made sense: he was in the sex industry. "You too, darling?"

He drew himself up the way men always do when they're advertising themselves. "I don't dance anymore, but I'm always happy to provide customer service whenever I need to."

I laughed. This might be fun. My pussy was already juicing up, mostly because of the shock: I had not expected to get laid tonight. "Which of your guys has the biggest dick?" I asked him bluntly. I was in the mood for meat tonight.

He nodded knowingly and then nodded over at a blonde Adonis dressed like a Roman soldier, but with an incongruous holiday wreath around his neck. "Kyle. The guy over there."

"Think he'll be into me?" I matched his grin. "If he's not, I'll take you." He laughed, a man who'd had many many snatches in his time and didn't particularly need another, and I sat back in the banquette with a new reason to study the Roman guy, now being loudly serviced by one of the groom's cousins. "Hell. I'd take you both at the same time."

He gave me a second look then, which I liked to think meant approval. But probably not. Truly, the man had probably seen everything there was to see, many times. And he was still in the business, which also meant he knew how to give women a second look that seemed to mean approval. "A good old-fashioned spit-roast?" He was in normal clothes, unlike the strippers working for him. Now he gave his crotch an ironic squeeze. "Want a peek?"

We laughed. "Maybe later," I purred, for the Roman guy had just backed away from the cousin and was now casting about, looking for his next target. "I've got things to do." He smiled and moved off, which I barely noticed. Because by that time, I really only had eyes for Kyle and his big fucking dick.

It swung there between his beefy thighs, a snakelike bludgeon with a life of its own, nestled in a tasteful patch of well-groomed curls and swinging mightily before a set of enormous, low-hanging balls. He worked his hips, sending his penis whipping left, then right, then in a hypnotic circle that left the women around me howling, but by then I had my eyes on his and my legs spread wide, one saucy hand lifting my dress up to my waist while the other beckoned him closer. I put on that squinty, Victoria Beckham look I liked to give at times like these, and like an android acting along with his programming, he sauntered happily toward me.

"Hi!" I let my face melt into a dazzling smile as soon as he was within range, standing before me like a god. He had to have been the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and that included his coworker Steve. "Want that cock sucked?"

I was not a believer in small talk.

"What do you think?" He halted just before me, washboard abs rising like the Berlin Wall before my wondering eyes, my world already full of his body's rich heat. God damn, but this man was sexy. With a mind of its own my hand rose, splay-fingered, to latch onto the solid meat of his chest high above as my other hand curled possessively around his thigh. Everything about him was hard, sleek muscle. That magnificent cock of his lurched half-hard within two or three inches of where my tongue licked at my lips, wetting them so that I could slide them down that perfect slab before me.

The girls lining the banquette beside me cheered, their cries a wall of sound that crushed me like the trash compactor in Star Wars as I leaned in, smelling him, My eyes straining upward to look past his corrugated abs, past the chest where my fingers left desperate tracks through the body oil, up past the spiky green of the Christmas wreath, to where his face gloated back at me, and then all of a sudden his warm, massive cockhead was resting on my lower lip and I dipped down to catch him gently inside the arc of my teeth.

He tasted of baby oil, whipped cream, and the spit of the bride's cousin, underlaid by an electrifying saltiness at the piss slit, which my tongue wasted no time exploring. God damn, but I love that first suckle of a new man's dick. It's so intimate, more intimate than a kiss, more intimate even than fucking, in some ways. I sank slowly down, tongue busy where the sharp mushroom of his head became the tight, eager bulge of his shaft, holding him in my mouth until he didn't taste like anything else but male skin and my own saliva.

And with that, he was mine. I'd claimed him.

I waited until he smiled, a tight grin atop his tight body, then spat him slowly back out with my tongue flattened along the bottom of his shaft, gliding slowly as I leaned back against the banquette with my legs still lewdly spread. On impulse, I nodded beside me. "Sit for a sec. Let's get to know each other."

I saw his eyes narrow, staring down at me, and I knew what he saw: a skinny slut, all legs and a mop of scarlet hair, my eyes smouldering up at his with my lips still wet from his dick. He nodded, a short jerk of his head. "You seem like a lovely girl. Why not?" His penis, I could see, had stiffened just a bit from the half-hard elephant trunk that had come swinging toward me, and I felt a tingle of excitement knowing my mouth had done that. I scooted over against the sweaty thigh of one of the bride's other college friends, who I vaguely remembered from a long-ago frat party.

He sank that nude body of his right down onto the glittery vinyl beside me, both of us ignoring the guest on his other side, even once she began pawing at his thigh. By that time, I'd already curled a possessive hand around the me-tasting glory of his dick. I swooped to his ear, letting him feel my breath and smell my hair. "I want to ride this thing," I told him bluntly, my words lost in the thump of the music. He returned a slow, confident smirk.

"Yeah? You like 'em big?"

"I like 'em good," I murmured into his ear, "and guys with big dicks are usually guys who've learned how to use them."

He chuckled, a rumble I could feel in his whole body. "Yeah, that's true. If we don't figure out how to be patient, we don't get laid. This thing can hurt."

"Yes, there's that," I agreed, "but then there's also the experience part. Every girl wants to see how well she'll do with a cock like yours. So they throw themselves at you." I licked his earlobe. "Sorta like I'm doing now."

"Yeah?" His hand slipped idly underneath my dress, palming my nude ass. "You want to see how well you'll do with a cock like mine?"

"No," I whispered back. "I already know."

"Do you?" His eyebrows rose.

"Yep." I laid a string of little kisses along his jaw. His skin tasted good. "I'll fuck it like it's never been fucked before."

He winked, his cock giving a little spasm in my fingers. "Only if I give you a chance."

"You will," I murmured. "Just ask your boss. He told me I could pick."

"Oh?" He changed at once, going from surfer-boy to businessman. "You were the referral?" His eyes glittered as I nodded. "Ah. Then you're right. I'm Kyle."

"Tara." I kissed his mouth, lightly, feeling myself dampen. "And you're going to rip me in half with this thing."

"Don't worry, babe." His voice had a husk to it now, a sense of assurance. The hand on my ass crept underneath, toward my pussy. "I'll take good care of you."

"I bet." He had big hands. He had big everything, actually, and I shifted abruptly sideways to grind my slit on his casually flexed fingers. He responded at once, experienced as he was, slipping one of those massive fingers straight up into me. "We should leave now," I blurted, my body already prickly.

His laugh was a low rumble, alongside a brief glance at the woman on his other side. "I can't. I'm working, Tara. We're here until midnight."

"Shit." I wriggled atop his finger, my hips grinding automatically. I dipped my hand lower, his balls a heavy pair of pendants in my palm. I licked his ear again. "I'll let you do whatever you want," I promised, my voice as thick as his cock.

Well. Almost. Nothing was that thick.

"I'll take you up on that." His hand flexed beneath me, a different finger stroking up along my labia, prodding my clit. I drew a sharp breath, which made his smile grow along with his hard-on. "After midnight."

"Do you go down?" I trailed my tongue down his neck, to his collarbone. The other chick's hand had joined mine on his meat now, but it didn't bother me. I'd be the one bringing this guy home tonight, I reminded myself fiercely. I twisted myself around his hand. "Want to eat my dripping cunt, Kyle?"

He took my cue, pulling his finger out from between my twitchy lips, then lifting it slowly to his mouth. We grinned as he licked me off himself. "If you taste this good in a shitty restaurant booth," he nodded, "I'd love to find out how much better you taste in bed."

"My place or yours?" The other woman was leaning over his lap now, bobbing dramatically over his erection. No, my erection. I was pleased that he didn't even seem to notice, keeping his attention on me. Good boy. "I'd give you my apartment key right now, I swear, if I thought you had a place to put it."

He smiled once more, his eyes carving straight through me, then leaned in all casual-like, as if he was just going to make a remark about the weather. Instead, he laid his lips squarely across mine and pried them open, his tongue oozing into my mouth like a fucking lava flow. I loved it, sucking greedily at it while the other girl's spit ran down Kyle's dick and onto my hand. I gave his balls one last tweak, knowing he'd taste like me again soon enough. The kiss ended in a last clash of teeth before he swallowed my eyes with his. "Give Jerry your address. He'll drop me off at your place later. Then I'll come inside and fuck the shit out of you." He patted my boob. "Sound good?"