Just Like a Real Girl Pt. 01

It was one of those rare occasions where I typed "LOL" and actually meant it. "That's funny," I added. "I always actually wondered about that... Superman and Lois. I mean, he's so strong, he could literally fuck her to death if he wasn't careful, or even tear her in half."

"Same here," Clint agreed. "Only I imagined that his cumshots are so powerful that her eyes explode out of their sockets and cum shoots out of every orifice."

"Hahaha," he replied. "That's kind of hot, actually. The idea of cum spraying out of her like someone jammed a fire hose up her ass and opened the valve."

I laughed even harder. "You're too much."

"Sweetie," he replied, "you have NO IDEA."

Having seen the bulge, I suspected he was right about that, but I teased him anyway... something I would soon regret. "Oh yeah? Meh... I hear that a lot from men in this group, about how they're going to give it to me like I've never had it before. Once in a while I actually give a guy the chance to prove it, and it's so NOT memorable that I barely remember them at all except for how... insufficient, they were."

That triggered a delay in his response, which is what I was hoping for. I'd thrown down the gauntlet, and waited to see if he'd pick it up.

He did.

"You've got quite the little chip on your shoulder, almost like you're asking for someone to knock it off," he observed. "I know the type, and I know exactly how to handle you."

Further nudging the hornets nest, I replied, "Yep, they all said that too... that EXACT thing."

"I mean it," he insisted. "If I was there right now..."

I gave it another good nudge, "Must not be all that earth-shattering if you can't finish that sentence."

"Wanna bet?"

I thought about it; the idea of it was actually quite interesting. "Maybe I do. Depends on the bet."

"It's easy. The bet is, you give me your address, and I'll come over and show you what I can do. If I'm not the best fuck you've ever had, you never have to see me again. But if I am..."

A long pause ensued as he thought of what he'd ask for in exchange, then he finished with, "I get to take you out in public to a sleazy no-tell-motel dressed as Krissy. We walk through the lobby, check in together, and get a room for the weekend. You won't be allowed to be anything BUT Krissy for the entire time, and you'll be serving me, regardless of what I ask for. So, if I tell you to go down the hall and get me some ice, or down to the restaurant to pick up some take out... you'll do it as Krissy, no exceptions. And in between, you'll suck my cock on demand, I'll film you and post the videos on the internet, I'll fuck you as many times as I please and as hard as I want, wherever I want it... and I'll make sure every person in the hotel hears your moans, even if it means they throw us out."

Jesus... it was as erotic and exciting as it was terrifying, and I couldn't decide which.

"But what if you AREN'T the most mind-blowing alpha-fuck that I've ever had, what if you aren't what you claim to be or think you are, what if I'm not impressed? What then?"

"I'm not finished. Once I'm done with you, I'm going to arrange a gang-bang. Not too many people, maybe four or five men, and they are going to run a train on you. But, to answer your question, if I'm NOT the best fuck you've ever had, we'll go to a different motel, a VERY expensive one. You won't have to lift a finger or spend a nickel. I'm talking 4-star room service, in-room massage, pay-per-view, champagne... I'll get you whatever you want free of charge, and you won't even have to put out... unless you want to."

In my mind, the later sounded like an amazing weekend, but the former was far to insidious to take lightly, so after a moment I asked, "So let me get this straight, if you're not the best fuck I've ever had, I get an awesome hotel suite for the weekend, and if you ARE I have to be your slave in some flea-infested shit box? Why in the hell would I ever admit it if you were?"

His response: "Trust me, you won't be able to help yourself."

My next thought was that this could be a scam (a sort of brilliant one, but a scam nonetheless.) It was genius in its simplicity. Dangle something attractive that he has no intentions of providing, he comes over and fucks me, he's terrible, I think I've won our bet, and then I never hear from him again and have no recourse whatsoever.

Almost as though he's reading my mind, he asks, "Where would you like the reservation sent?"

"What reservation?"

"For the 4-star. I just booked a weekend at the Delta Chelsea, paid in full including all the amenities. I just need an email address or cell number to confirm it, and if I lose the bet, it's all yours whether you invite me to join you or not."

I knew of the hotel, and a weekend suite ran for just shy of two-grand a night above and beyond the meals and the bar and the spa treatment. Still, I knew there had to be a catch. "That all sounds fantastic," I admitted, "and even if I somehow lost the bet, I'd still invite you along. I mean, how bad of a lay could you possibly be?"

"But?"

"But... what's to stop me from saying that you lost even if you ARE actually the best fuck I've ever had? And, what's to stop YOU from cancelling the 4-star reservation the moment I tell you that you lost?"

Almost immediately, his reply: "Nothing but my word, and my promise that you won't be going to any four-star hotel, because I would fuck you in ways you've never had before. And by the time I am done with you, you won't care what kind of hotel I take you to. All you're going to care about is getting me back inside of you, and you'll do whatever the fuck I say to make it happen. Even if that means getting plowed by some guys I know."

Playing it out in my head I was able to find the "win-win" of the situation, but in hindsight it was a combination of his apparent ability to read my mind and the bulge-pic he'd sent. Worst case: the bulge was a rolled up pair of gym socks, he was a lousy lay, and for the fiftieth time in my life I pretended to like it long enough to get him out of my apartment and the 4-star is a sham (in actuality, the true worst case was Clint is a psychopath who intends to murder me and fuck my orbital sockets, but that could be said for anyone.) But all I'd have to do is say, 'No, you weren't the best', and he'd either make good on the bet, or he wouldn't. But... what IF?

What IF that bulge was real...

What IF he could fuck as good as he talked...

What IF he fucked me so good that I'd actually keep up my end in the seedy flea-

bag motel...

"This is all kind of extreme and sudden," I pointed out, stalling for time. "But, I'm considering it."

Several minutes passed without reply, so I sent another message just to see if I'd lost his interest. "It's tempting."

"Here's what you're going to do. If you agree, your next text will contain your address and a specific time... let's say no later than midnight tonight. If not, it's been nice chatting with you, and I wish you happy hunting. Hopefully you'll come to terms with what you want and need, and someday soon you'll find what you're looking for."

My heart pounded in my chest and my panties were wet though my cock had practically "turtled" inside of me, as though my masculinity already knew the answer and was running for the bomb shelter in search of refuge against the impending attack. I felt as though I had leaned back too far in a chair, that moment when gravity and physics takes you from leaning to falling. My life was (and is) full of moments where I wish I could go back and do it all over again, but I can't. Those moments were brief and fleeting, and my lack of action (or the correct action) haunt me to this very day, and one of the things I've always told myself is this: "Next time, I'll see the opportunity and say the right thing and it'll be amazing." But then, that moment comes, I hesitate or say the wrong thing, and the opportunity vanishes like a dream upon waking. There was no time to contemplate all the variables, the train was leaving the station and I was either a passenger, or a pedestrian.

"427 Humbolt Street" I wrote. "12:30am, I'll leave the door unlocked and some lube on my nightstand. I hope you don't intend to hurt me."

"Krissy," he replied, "you won't be able to sit down without clenching for a few days after I'm done with you, but you're going to fall in love with me by the time I'm finished with you."

END OF PART 1