I looked over at Connor and saw he really needed to ash his cigarette. Before it all fell to the ground, I noticed how it almost matched his eyes, though they were a gray founded on green, a little bit like the color of tobacco before it burns.
I liked Connor in a lot of ways, but by now, we had been dating long enough that we had started feeling a few of our differences. When this happened, we were both 18, him just turned and me already going on 19. The age gap might not seem like much, but it meant that there were some things we talked about—like staying together through college, or his Internet friends’ idea of communism—that I was pretty skeptical of and didn’t think would end up working out as planned, but that he was still totally idealistic and dreamy-eyed about.
This happened with sex stuff too. Sex was fine with Connor; I hadn’t hooked up with that many guys, but I knew he had an okay-sized dick and he could fuck me like a rabbit long enough to get me off. Sometimes while I was stalling—like not putting off cumming on purpose, just the Energizer bunny thing wasn’t doing it by itself and I needed something else to push me over the edge—I imagined that I was getting impaled by a big metal spike through the guts, right while Connor was as deep as he could be in me. The vision of my blood dripping down to where his dick was feverishly jabbing my gash almost always made my pussy clamp down on him until I came, hard. (I never told him about this.)
One time, Connor was going down on me on the couch while something was playing on Netflix in the background. I hadn’t been paying attention, I was looking at my phone, and suddenly Connor was pulling my underwear down and started kissing my lips and lapping at me with his tongue. Oral from Connor was fine, it was rabbit-like, too—quick and consistent—but it sort of turned me off how eager he was to do it. I didn’t like the idea that it was some selfless act, and I always peeked to see if he was at least hard while he was eating me out (usually he was, but it still felt wrong somehow).
I kept looking at my phone until he became impossible to ignore and I wondered if I could bribe him with a blowjob so he’d get off his knees, but when he knew he had my attention, he pulled back and started fumbling:
“So Lex, I’ve been thinking and I, uhh…”
I looked up from my phone. His voice had this way of shaking whenever he started talking about something consequential, or that he had been thinking about for a long time. It was how he sounded when he finally asked me out, and when we had sex for the first time.
“…I wanted to know what you thought about, like—not me, but maybe just you—fooling around with other people? Like another guy, instead of me?”
His face had this totally open expression, like hoping the puppy at the shelter will love you back.
“I just mean that, I mean, I’d think it was kinda hot if you were fucking another guy and I got to watch, or like you sent me pics or whatever. Like, I know my dick isn’t the biggest, and wouldn’t it be cool to get fucked by a bigger guy?”
This last part made both of us wince a little.
Before I said anything, I thought for a second. This buildup had been similar to when Connor bought us a dildo—he used it on me while he poked around in my ass, and I wondered if he wasn’t also using it on himself sometimes—but now the stakes felt a lot higher. Did he really know how he’d feel with some other guy in the room? Especially if that guy dwarfed him? Didn’t he feel any kind of ownership over me at all?
I tried a response that was half-self-effacing, half-ego-recovery/damage control:
“Babe, we don’t need to do anything like that. You already get me off like every time we have sex. Bigger dicks are fun in porn, but I don’t need one to cum; yours is plenty big enough for me.”
I lost eye contact partway through saying this and I knew he wasn’t giving up.
“Would you at least consider trying it? Worst case, it’s one night of fun for you, no strings I promise. Then we never have to do it again if you don’t want to.”
There was a lot I could’ve said in that moment, about how I was worried “no strings” would go away the second some other guy’s fat cock flopped out, how maybe we could just try something in bed where he collared me or hurt me a little, where maybe he should talk with someone about this since weren’t his parents getting divorced because his mom cheated on his dad?—
But instead, and maybe a little out of resignation, I said:
“Okay, babe, we can try it, but only if you’re there. There’s no way I’m gonna go fuck some stranger by myself.”
He almost yipped with glee before he dove back down into my pussy. He tongue-fucked me like he was ravenous, and before I got off, I imagined a guy with a machete breaking down the door and goring us both.
***
I made Connor set everything up. It was too weird going through all the photos and profiles together. I just told him the guy had to be good looking and white; Connor was pretty clearly bi-ish, so I thought he’d be a decent judge, and this was not gonna be the time I worked out my race thing. I only ever got off to white guys in porn and I was still kind of thinking of this as some surreal, enfleshed version of porn. That made it all a little easier to swallow.
Some guys wanted to meet for drinks or whatever first, but we didn’t have fakes, and some guys bailed the second they heard “18.” But one guy agreed to meet us at the Motel 6 by the dump. The Motel 6 was a pretty dangerous place in town, drug busts and shootouts and all kinds of bad local news stories, but it was 100 percent the cheapest option, so we went for it. Connor paid for the room, which made it impossible for me to think about fucking him (shouldn’t that other guy have to pay since he’s the one getting off??), and suddenly it was Friday and we were getting ready to go.
I was some mix of nervous and indifferent to the whole experience, but I think I told on myself a little when I put on one of my sluttiest date outfits I’d ever worn with Connor. My skirt was ridiculously short (I was just gonna be in the car and the motel room, didn’t have to worry about like public transit or shit like that), and I wore the thong I knew was Connor’s favorite. He always remarked on it whenever I wore it, and predictably he did again when I flashed it to him while we were in the car. I made him finger me while he drove, harder once he parked the car so I was dripping around the thong when we got to the door. When Connor knocked, I knew my tits looked really good and that I probably reeked of pussy.
The guy who answered the door was huge. Connor is five foot eight and I’m five foot four, and this guy towered over both of us. He was wearing a black undershirt that cleaved to his muscular upper body and he had a towel around his waist; he had clearly just showered and wasn’t wearing anything underneath. There was a knot in the towel just over where his cock had to be, but I could still see a noticeable bulge through the fabric below. He looked us both over—I have no idea what Connor’s face looked like, but I’m sure I looked like a porn-worthy deer-in-the-headlights drooling teen slut—and he laughed:
“Smells like somebody’s been pre-gaming. Get in here, both of you.”
He put his arm around me and pulled me inside, and Connor followed.
The room had a bed and a chair and the rest didn’t matter.
“Sit.”
I thought he was talking to me so I sat on the bed, but once I did, I realized he was telling Connor to sit in the chair. Connor did exactly what he was told. We must have looked like two targets in a shooting gallery.
“You can do whatever you want over there; I don’t care if you jack it or just watch or what. Only rule is you stay there, unless your little girlfriend decides you can come over and do some subby cuck shit while I do whatever I want with her. That clear?”
I saw Connor was already hard in his shorts, but he looked too embarrassed to do anything about it yet. He nodded quickly, and I knew if he wasn’t gripping the armrests, his hands would’ve been shaking.
The guy, whose name I still didn’t know, finally turned to me and I realized holy shit, he’s gotta be over 40. I had never fucked anybody that old before—this guy was almost my dad’s age—and inexplicably I could feel myself getting wetter thinking about it. No doubt this guy had way more experience than Connor, but right now, all that mattered was he was looking at me like I was chuck steak he was about to rip apart with his hands.
“Stand up and take your skirt off, Lexi.”
My dad was like the only person on the planet who still called me Lexi. I obeyed immediately and tried to make a show of Connor’s favorite thong, even though I had already soaked it through. My nipples were hard as fuck, so I played with them a little.
Before I knew what was happening, this guy had ripped my top off, dragged my thong down to the floor, put me on all fours on the bed, and started fucking me hard with two of his giant fingers. I was already fuller than I ever felt with Connor, and the way this man didn’t seem to give a shit about me at all—he said he was only fucking me with his hands so he could stretch my slit open to take his thick cock—made me almost orgasm immediately. I found myself saying the most pathetic, whimpering shit I never said during sex with Connor, and loving every second of it:
“Yeah, Daddy, please, I need your big dick inside me, I want you to use me like your worthless little cocksleeve until you fill all my holes with your cum…”
By the time his fingers were out of me and he was lining up his ridiculously huge cockhead against my cunt, I saw Connor was openly jerking off in the chair. The way he held his waistband down I could tell he was also fingering his ass at the same time, and even though the sight of him fingering himself like a girl almost ruined my endorphin high, seeing him this way gave me an idea.
I asked Daddy if Connor could come over to play with us while we fucked and so Daddy barked the order and made Connor crawl over like a good little cuck. Daddy gave Connor my thong to put on and made him kneel right at the edge of the bed, so his face was positioned right underneath my pussy, where Daddy’s massive donkey dick was about to ruin his little girl.
I couldn’t see either of them, but the second Daddy’s cock bottomed out in me and Connor’s cuck tongue started working my clit, I was in heaven. Daddy fucked me good and hard and smacked my tits around and spanked my ass like he owned every square inch of me. I could hear Daddy making Connor clean his balls with his tongue and I think he may have even made Connor eat his ass at one point, but my eyes were closed and all I was focused on was Daddy’s horse cock and how unreal it felt inside me. I forgot that it hurt, I barely even processed the commotion that was starting to be audible outside—yelling, car doors slamming, some vague metallic noises I couldn’t identify in my haze—and every time Daddy hit my cervix and Connor flicked his tongue the right way, I got closer and closer to what I knew was gonna be the biggest orgasm of my life.
I remember thinking during all of it that it felt so good, but I was somehow kind of mad at Connor for being too useless to make me feel this way himself; like why couldn’t he just be a man and show that he owned me, instead of needing someone else to do it? As the shouting got louder outside and those weird, clicking metal sounds grew more urgent, it fell into place in my head that this arrangement was correct, that Connor didn’t deserve my pussy if he couldn’t use it right. I had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Connor’s dick poking out from my thong while he watched a real man and his big dick take what was only his because Connor had given it up.
Our bodies were so close together that when the first burst of bullets broke through the window and the wall, one of them hit Daddy in the leg, one went clean through Connor’s head, and one bit me hard at the base of my neck. Connor crumpled to the floor and Daddy collapsed onto me, pushing him so hard and so deep inside me that the last thing I ever was was his perfect little spasming cockslut, cumming uncontrollably as my vision depleted, as I slowly stopped being able to hear anything and my blood soaked and soaked into the cheap sheets.
Holly Sargis is a writer.
