The Mix-Up Ch. 02

The blasts of early morning barge horns rattling his RV, Lester rubbed his tired eyes with his sausage-sized fingers. He'd spent most of the weekend lying in his grubby bed jerking off and eating fried chicken, his two favorite activities. He ambled outside to his clothesline alongside the river. Wisps of fog rose off the dark water.

Lester's appearance would've broken a mirror if he had one. He hadn't shaved for five days, leaving patchy tuffs of hair on his face, and he struggled lifting his work trousers over his worn-out underwear. He took a moment to catch his breath before yanking them up, certain he'd heard them rip.

"I better ask boss for a new pair," he said, still able to see his undies peeking through his pants, "or the ladies won't leave me alone." Snickering at his joke, it was the first day in his life that he looked forward to going to work. He carefully grasped the key to Apartment 204 as he drove, a reminder of all the excitement he expected in the days ahead.

Pulling into the apartment complex, the big man parked in his usual spot far from any other cars. Perfect for the mid-afternoon wank if a piece of ass tanned by the pool. As he struggled out of his car, his boss Frank strode to him.

"Lester, no need to get out. What the fuck were you thinking breaking that tape?"

Lester's breathing quickened. "I - I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're on camera breaking the tape, for crying out loud. Didn't you consider that? Jesus Christ man, the only reason they aren't filing charges about your closet mess is because management doesn't need that publicity."

"What tapes? On camera?" Lester asked, furrowing his brow.

"Enough bullshit, and you don't get the rest of your pay," Frank said, pulling a piece of paper from his rear pocket. "$833 in property damage, if you wanna see the list."

"--come on Frank, I was havin' a rough day and--"

"Lester--"

"Then that hot girl with big tits showed up - you saw her, I'm sure!"

"Lester, I don't give -"

"--I need this job!"

"You should've thought about that before jerking off on a vacuum cleaner!" Frank hollered, turning away.

Lester's ears turned beet red, the humiliation so acute they felt like they were on fire. He sat in stunned silence for ten minutes unsure what to do next, clenching his fists at the conversation. What right did his boss have to lecture him? He tightened his hold on the key so tightly it hurt, but it popped him out of his rage momentarily. It reminded him of all the potential that lay within it. It was the one bright spot in his world. Squishing himself back in the car, Lester wiped the sweat from his forehead and pondered his next move.

~~~~~

The next two days were a blur in Apartment 204 for Taryn. Various attempts at packing for her trip were interrupted by calls from the agency or their texts blowing up her phone. She gazed at the heap of gift wrap by her bed and frowned. She couldn't stand messes, even those resulting from her $200,000 modeling contract. As she cleaned it up, her phone lit up with the beaming face of her friend Amy Park. She'd loaned Taryn her mom's Mercedes for prom - a ride suitable for a prom queen.

Taryn smiled. "I'm coming! I've taken like five million pics this morning for Mr. Demanding Agency Guy."

"I swear if you're late, I'll eat your pancakes," Amy said. "Get here already, I got a table and everything."

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"Nothing," Amy laughed, hanging up.

Taryn wandered into her closet and found a pretty, yellow sundress. It was a recent purchase, far too expensive to justify she knew, but it may as well been designed for her. She loved the classiness of it, the tasteful yet fun way it fit her, how it hit mid-thigh and showed off her tanned, toned legs that she was so proud of. Coupling it with strappy wedges, she did a playful twirl, the airy fabric collecting on her hips - she looked like a bridesmaid, one who would steal the attention from a bride. Taryn always made looking sexy an effortless exercise.

"Almost too classy," she said to herself. Taking her hair out of a ponytail, she brushed her long blonde locks, billowing to the small of her back like a wave. She placed the new lingerie from the agency carefully in her dresser, contemplating which to wear. The stockings were for colder weather, but she'd find an excuse soon for them. A red satin bra, while sexy, would be distracting with its straps. Barely visible was a black lace g-string, so sheer it scarcely covered anything.

It was an easy choice. She pulled it up her legs feeling a little secretive. For such a classy outfit, the panties felt a little bold.

Amy waved sarcastically when Taryn finally arrived, looking Taryn up and down. "Girl you better not wear that in Chicago."

"You know it's not always 5 degrees there, right?"

"It's the Windy City, Taryn. Jesus."

Taryn snickered and the two hugged, barely touching their food for twenty minutes. With the ongoing pandemic, Taryn saw Amy's face more on Zoom than in person.

Amy twiddled her fork for a moment before setting it down. "So, you've been keeping your contract under wraps -"

Taryn hesitated. "Yes..."

"Well, I needed an excuse to get sushi this week, so we're going. And a few people are joining."

"You're literally the worst at keeping secrets, Amy. Seriously."

"Oh hush, you think no one would like, not notice you wearing a thousand-dollar dress or hear your car squealing from a mile away? Relax. Besides...it's Katsuya."

Taryn almost dropped her glass. "And you say I'm the one with money!"

"T, I have side hustles too. Every girl has secrets."

"Oh please, rich parents. How many Mercedes has your mom bought this year?"

"You mean this month?"

"Watermelon Sugar" sounded from her purse. Shit. The modeling rep. The song instantly took her back to when she licked Lester Burns' cum off her fingers, a memory she'd tried to sear from her memory. She crossed her shapely legs and gazed around for any fat, old men. None today.

She remembered the stale taste of his cum, and how she'd dreaded replying on the phone, swallowing the sixty-year-old handyman's seed deep into her body. Even rinsing her mouth repeatedly and showering several times did nothing to make her feel clean. She looked as flawless as ever, but something changed for Taryn. It was the illusion of how her beauty affected others. The adulation and smiles she was given hid the animalistic urges of those behind them.

Her cheeks flushed as she answered the call, more aware now of her exposed, smooth thighs and the few men eyeing her from around the restaurant. The rep apologetically told her they sent four more items to her and needed photos as soon as possible in advance of the photoshoot. The novelty of his British accent was wearing off with every request. She closed her eyes as he talked. This was real work.

Amy buttered a pancake delicately. "I need that guy to call me on bad dates. Could get me out of anything."

The blonde managed a smile. "It's not always great. I'll pay... this time."

The two survived Taryn's beater of a car on the ride home, although Amy took every chance to convince her to buy a Mercedes. They'd just entered 204 when Taryn froze. Before seeing him, she smelt the ripe body odor of Lester Burns. Amy caught a whiff a second later and held her nose.

"What the fuck is that sme--" she said, when they both spotted Lester in her bedroom, his back to them. The obese man was struggling with something. His pants hung low under his big gut, and he struggled to pull them up.

Amy put her hands on her hips. "Uh, hello? Who the fuck are you?"

"Oh fuckin' hell!" he yelled, throwing his hands up. An object flew from his grasp and bounced off the wall with a metallic clink. "Damn near gave me a heart attack!" His mind raced - a moment before he was stroking his cock as hard as he had in years, completely unaware of his surroundings.

Amy hadn't moved an inch. "That doesn't answer who the fuck you are."

He hastily stuffed his junk back into his pants and zipped it back up, a flap of underwear hanging out the front. Turning to the girls, they could finally see his uniform. "Your uh, uh - bedroom has a leak. Natural gas."

Lester considered for a moment he'd entered the wrong apartment seeing the sharp-tongued Asian girl, but he breathed a small sigh of relief seeing Taryn behind her. And what a sight she was. The girl remained far from him, but her flowery perfume found its way to his gnarled nose, and he inhaled deeply, lusting for the beautiful teen in front of him.

Only when a little drool trickled down his chin did Lester realize he'd been staring.

"So that's the smell?" Amy asked.

"Er - yes. Couldn't stand the thought of you gals being in any kind of danger," he said, wiping his sweaty brow.

Taryn moved a lock of hair from her eyes and studied the enormous man in front of her, seemingly jammed in the bedroom doorway. She knew right away he was lying. She'd smelled his odor before, and no way in hell was he telling the truth. Lester Burns made lying his sport.

Lester recognized her look and knew the gig was about up. He tried his best to look casual, putting a grubby hand on the wall, but all that did was expose the huge pit stains on his ratty uniform.

"Oh, I'm fixing to go, just uh, gotta do some cleanup, y'know. Paperwork."

Amy's phone buzzed. She turned to Taryn and mouthed, you okay? The blonde nodded. Amy pointed to her cell apologetically. "Mom's test driving a G-Class. I gotta run. I'll see you in a couple days, T," she said, hugging her friend. "Don't look so glum, babe - remember Katsuya!"

In a lower voice, she said, "Text me when he's gone."

A moment later Amy was gone, leaving an awkward silence in the apartment. Lester shoved his hands in his pockets, in part to hide his yellow sweat stains and hold his pants up, before realizing the all-important key that got him into 204 was missing. Half guarding the bedroom doorway and holding the wall to stay up, he felt a burp welling up, one of the tell-tell signs that he was nervous. He slapped his belly to stop the burp, forcing his rolls of fat to jiggle like a waterbed.

Taryn stifled a gag. Every second his stench filled her nose dragged on for a minute. She turned away, unable to look at him anymore, feeling bad for him but wondering how on Earth he'd come to such a state in his sixty-odd years. Surely someone had offered him advice on diet or showed him how to use the exercise machines he worked on? His body had no more places to put the weight, so every part of him was an unnatural attempt by nature to store fat. His double chin and sagging man boobs were obvious, but the puffiness of his hands and how his ears sunk into his head defied belief.

"Perfect, well thank you, but I need my apartment now," Taryn said, backing away toward the entry.

"Err-." Lester's jaw dropped as he drank in her swaying ass. Blood engorged his throbbing cock, which he wrestled through his threadbare pocket, trying desperately to hold down. A pervert like Lester could appreciate the beauty of the female form, how the luscious cascades of her hair tumbled down to the small of her back, and the way her fit calves flexed with every step in her wedges. So was youth. Of pretty, red painted toes and sundresses, of her effortlessly envious teen body, of -

"I'll get the paperwork from the office tomorrow," she said, holding the door open.

His eyes stung from staring.

"Err, that's not necessary, you see, as the manager I have to sign off on it," Lester said, hoping to keep his charade going and keep her from learning he'd been fired only hours earlier. She didn't budge from the door. He sighed, drops of sweat rolling into the creases of his fatty arm folds. He'd have to think of something else.

"Can't go yet until I get the key your friend scared outta me. You seen it?"

By this point, Taryn's head ached from the smell in her usually fragrant apartment. She shook her head, gripping the door tighter. As Lester halfheartedly scanned the floor, Taryn flipped her hair over her shoulders.

"Just stop already," she said, striding to the hallway. Each step jostled her bountiful cleavage in hypnotic regularity, widening Lester's hungry eyes and after several seconds, his burning lungs reminded him to breathe. And when he did, her fresh, flowery perfume filled his nose, a scent he'd never experienced before in all his days of living in filth. His nostrils flared trying to inhale her essence.

Taryn ignored the hyperventilating old sod, not sure what he was doing. She just wanted him out of her place. She lowered herself to all fours as she turned her head sideways, peering into the darkness under the couch. There was no way in hell Lester would be able to reach it.

Lester's heart nearly popped out his chest. Crouching at such an extreme angle left the prom queen's airy dress stretched tightly against her ass, exposing the creamy skin of her thighs. His hand crept into his tattered underwear, not caring she was no more than five feet away as he struggled to find his cock between thick folds of fat.

He'd never been so close to her before. God, she's flawless.

She reached blindly under the couch, finding some hair ties and a receipt for stockings she meant to wear. Every time she extended her arm further, the hem of her dress rose another inch, getting closer and closer to revealing what lay underneath.

Another inch and he'd see her panties...

Taryn backed up, carefully tucking her dress under her bum as best she could. Lester's huge shadow and stench made her efforts downright impossible.

Impatiently, she told him to wait outside as she got the key.

"If you say, I - I gotta finish the job," Lester said, inching away. Her glare spurred him to the door, each step making the poor floor squeak in protest. Only when he'd exited did she take a deep breath and continue. She turned on her phone light, pushing it under the couch and reaching as far as possible.

Lester cracked the door back open. He hadn't gone through the effort of making a key and getting fired to be told off that easily. His heavy breathing pushed his big gut into the door, making it squeak.

"Shit!" he whispered.

Taryn was too far under the couch to know Lester's beady eyes transfixed on her. Metal glinted back at her. Perched against the baseboard was the key. Bingo! Lester thought the same thing as Taryn's dress slid forward on her hips. It bunched around her waist, and his blood pressure skyrocketed at the view.

"Motha' Magdalene and Mary," he said, shoving his hand into pants for the third time in five minutes. He squinted, leaning back into the apartment to get a better look, his huge shirt catching on the door handle. Her fit ass was on full display, the tanned cheeks upturned toward him unknowingly. Her lace g-string clung to her heart-shaped rear as she stretched under the couch.

Lester untangled his shirt, his eyes lasered in on her body. "What an ass. This girl is fuckin' unreal," he muttered. He'd seen old broads by the pool a hundred times, so it wasn't the fact an ass upturned toward him that stiffened his cock - it was the fact it was her ass. Flawless in its ripe pertness, her body begged to be spanked, manhandled, used... He jerked harder as she scooted her athletic ass backwards. Even her yoga pants the other day didn't do it justice. His underpants ripped further in a blur of perverse motion, but he didn't care.

The primal urge in him was to grab her hips and not let go, ramming into her until he filled her belly with pools of cum, using her for all his demented fantasies. Day upon day of ceaseless fucking, draining his old saggy balls in her until he had no more cum. He'd never run out before.

He snapped out of his fantasy. She wasn't one of the trailer park sluts he'd fucked in his youth, the Darlene's or Tracey Mae's hollering into his RV for money for their cosmetology licenses. Or even like the women in his magazines. She had all the class his porn centerfolds lacked, and she was better for it.

All too soon it was over. She straightened up her dress and dropped the key in his hand, careful not to touch him. Lester stared at her chest as the view into 204 ended with the door's thud. He leaned against the hallway wall heavily, only stirring into motion when he heard Taryn's shriek.

"That son of a bitch!"

Lester hustled down a rarely used maintenance corridor.

A puddle of cum glimmered on her hardwoods with a dozen creamy rivulets crossing the floor between her bed and the bathroom. It looked like someone sloshed a gallon of milk around her bed, leaving erratic lines of cum that seeped into the floor. Taking a step back, her wedges slid a little too easily and sure enough, smeared on the floor and her shoes was a thick blob of Lester's cum.

"Eeek!"

Taryn marched to the apartment office in a huff, dragging her shoes along the carpeted hallways to clean them. She demanded Lester be fired and the cleaning crew immediately clean up his mess, but the receptionist explained that Lester had been axed earlier that week and the cleaning crew refused to clean any of his foul messes. An outside cleaning crew would be called, but it would take several days with the huge demand for them during the pandemic. As for the door lock, she'd contact Frank, the building super, but warned that with no handyman on site since Lester's firing, that too could take time.

"If you fired him, how the HELL did he get into my apartment?"

The manager peeked out of his office. "Ah- well - I'm not quite sure -"

"Worthless, you're just worthless!" Taryn said, storming out. By the time she'd reached her room, she was in a fervor, ready to call one of her dad's lawyer friends. As she began to dial, the modeling rep called asking if she'd tried on the new outfits so their fitting personnel could get a head start. Of course, she hadn't - the cum of a sixty-year-old morbidly obese perv was splattered all over her room!

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she assured him she'd send the pictures right over. This was really testing her patience. But where were the packages?

She rechecked the front door and started back to the Main Office before sighting wads of torn giftwrap on her bed. It hadn't been there before. She traversed her room like a minefield, finding a set of nylon stockings and a skimpy dark lace bra half buried under the covers. Strewn on the other side of the bed was a crinkled-up black garter belt. Where was the last item?

Her heart sank when she saw it. Like a melting icicle, cum slowly dripped off the windowsill onto an elegant black bra with sheer sides. It was the nicest bra she'd ever seen, yet Lester's cum seeped into its smooth fabric, leaving thick discolored blotches on the straps.

"You've got to be kidding me."

She placed her painted nails on her temple. Was the $200,000 even worth it? What was she supposed to tell the rep? That she couldn't do the fittings because a dirty old man blew ridiculous loads all over her expensive lingerie? Like that'd go over well. He already thought lowly of where she came from.

She whispered a short prayer and tossed the bra in the shower, letting the hot water rinse it for several minutes. By the time she returned, it hung waterlogged and heavy, with little evidence of the thick jets of cum from before.

Putting on the soaking bra, she shrieked at how much of Lester's cum had soaked into the fabric. It sponged out of the bra as she fastened it, which felt snugger than usual. She scarcely needed to hook it because his cum clung like vile honey to her soft skin, coating her breasts in his dirty spunk. A quick picture later, she flung the bra off to the floor with a gooey splat. Hopping back into the shower, she turned it to its hottest setting, determined to rid herself of the syrupy fluids defiling her perfect figure.