New Story: The One-Two Screw Crew Does Christmas (Part 2)

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New Story: The One-Two Screw Crew Does Christmas (Part 1)

Merry slightly belated Christmas to all of you that celebrated it. If you didn't, then I hope you had a nice break nevertheless. My apologies for the lateness—in keeping with how the whole year has gone by, Christmas here was a crazy affair that defied preparation.

In any event, in what has now become a bit of a tradition at Smutty Footnotes, I present your Christmas Special, a story exclusive to this blog, by way of thanking you for the support you have given me throughout the year. That support is highly appreciated, I want you to know that.

Here is Part One of The One-Two Screw Crew Does Christmas, a little ditty that looks at friends Elizabeth Bowden and Shelley Caskill from Book III of The Adjusters, and spells out something that was alluded to in #34. It's a bit more of a character piece than some of the stuff I've written lately, but it has been knocking at the back of my mind wanting to be written, and so here it is. Part Two should be up either tomorrow night or the following.

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The One-Two Screw Crew Does Christmas (Part 1)


(Morgantown, West Virginia. Five years ago.)

“Come on, man! Cheer up, for goodness’ sake! It’s your job to cheer the kids up, not the other way around.”

Harry Colburn slaps my shoulder and shakes his head. It’s the first one that gets my attention. He’s at least a head taller than I am, and given that I’m six foot two, it isn’t something I’ve quite gotten used to yet, and he’s strong. So his slap almost sends me flying into the window of the minivan, to everybody’s merriment.

Harry grins his goofiest grin, the one that to anyone not knowing him well screams out just how much of a large lummox whose only pleasures in life are primal he is, the one that he told me he’s been practicing since his senior year of high school, the one that distracts players and coaches from opposite teams into thinking that he’s indeed a large lummox instead of the sharpest and quickest thinking strategist that the Mountaineers have ever had playing point.

“I’m just getting into character,” I grumble, rubbing my shoulder. I’ve got a Grinch costume on, which I think is an inspired bit of casting.

“Couldn’t you just be the post-epiphany Grinch?”

“Hey, dark and gritty, right? Isn’t that what the kids are into these days?”

“Not today, Garcia. Today, we’re here to make sick children laugh and smile. So you’re going to be upbeat and entertaining or I’m going to introduce our young friends to the underappreciated comedic aspects of Punch and Judy.”

Yeah, Harry talks like that. When he’s not playing dumb, he’s always referring to bits of theatrical trivia. The cognitive dissonance for most people is impressive: he’s big, he’s black, he’s got a goofy grin. And he’s also the best Shakespearean actor the School of Theater and Dance at West Virginia University has ever had, and one of their best student. That he joined the university under a basketball scholarship and led the team to two winning seasons is just icing over a particularly moist and flavorful cake.

Me, I'm Brandon Garcia, and I'm struggling. Which has been really messing with my head for the last semester. I was star athlete at my high school down in Miami last year, and while not Valedictorian I had a shot at it. Moving to West Virginia—WVU being the one place that was willing to foot my education bill via a basketball scholarship just like Harry's—was a bit of a shock, not just culture-wise, but ego-wise. Here, I'm above average, but not much more than that, both academically and athletically. It's been a rough transition, one that seems to be common, but knowing that doesn't make it any easier.

Especially now that I've received results for some of my courses, and it's touchy. I've got a single final left, in two days, and if I don't pass it, my scholarship's in jeopardy. So that's been on my mind. And instead of studying my ass off, I've got to be here, on this stupid field trip.

I'm being unfair. It's not a stupid field trip. Every year, around Christmas time, the basketball team heads over to the Children's Hospital, and spends the day with the kids, in costume. Both kids and staff love it, and it's the highlight of the end of year festivities for most folks on the team as well. No matter how much you live to party and drink yourself silly, there's nothing that beats putting a smile on a kid's face. I get it. And was looking forward to it, too. Until I realized just how close to being kicked out I really am. My heart's not in it now. I'm worried. My future's about to go down the drain, and I feel there isn't anything I can do to help it.

When the minivan drops us off at the hospital, Harry takes charge. He's done this before, and the nurses in charge of the visit know him, and love him. Because to be honest, everyone loves Harry. He's dressed, unsurprisingly, as Santa Claus, and he pulls it off. I don't know what he's got underneath that suit of his, but he looks twice his usual size, which gives him an imposing bulk.

There is a bunch of people in the foyer waiting for us, in costume. Harry told me that the team invites friends and family to join them, as long as they have the right attitude, as he says. A few girlfriends usually round up the group, as well as what he calls groupies. The cheerleading squad has also been known to join up, although today it doesn't look like that’s the case.

I’m a bit taken aback by the kids being wheeled about the lobby of the hospital, some looking well, others looking sick. I've never really been around sick people, so I don't really know how to handle myself. I stick close to Harry, happy to let him call the plays the way he does on the court.

And that's the reason I’ve got a particularly nice view when a sexy elf skips her way towards Harry. I'm real glad I've got a ton of makeup on because I'm pretty sure I'm gawking like a high schooler.

The girl—a thin short-haired blonde with a killer body wrapped in a short bright green tunic, light green tights, and a pair of white boots—jumps in Harry's arms when she's within reach.

Harry was fully expecting the encounter, clearly, because he catches her and holds her up against him as she tries and fails to wrap her long legs around his artificially large stomach and plants a loud kiss on his lips.

“Harry the Mule,” she grins. Her smile is infectious. “Funny meeting you here.” She presses her lips against his once more, a slow kiss this time, deeper, the kind that closes off the couple from the rest of the world.

“Huh, Shel, you may want to let the poor guy breathe.” Another elf, dressed exactly like the first, approaches the embracing couple. This one, just as beautiful but with more generous curves, has curly red hair down to her shoulders.

“You should kiss him, Lizzie. It's really weird with that big white beard he's got on.” The blonde kisses Harry once more time before dropping down before the big guy.

Harry smiles at the redhead, and leans down to hug her. “Hey Lizzie! How's my girl doing? Thanks so much for coming.”

“Hey Harry! Good to see you! You look...” She looks him over, shaking her head, “twice as big as you usually do.”

“Oh fuck,” says the blonde, putting her hand on the redhead's shoulder. “If he's twice as big as usual, I definitely got to try me some of that.” Her expression makes it very clear what she means, and once again I'm glad for the makeup because I'm certain I'm blushing bright red.

I think Harry picks up on my discomfort, because he turns to me, and waves a hand towards the two girls. “Come on, Garcia, meet my two favorite girls on campus. Elizabeth,” he waves to the redhead, “and Shelley,” then to the blonde. “Ladies, Brandon Garcia, our newest small forward, fresh out of high school.”

Elizabeth smiles in my direction and nods. “Nice to meet you, Brandon.”

“Hi Brandon,” goes Shelley, and then looks back at Harry with a grin.

Elizabeth is looking at me with an odd expression on her face, her head tilted to the side. I pretty much know what she's going to say, even though I would not have expected her to be the one to say it. “Aren't you short for a small forward?”

Before I can respond, Harry laughs a great big Santa Claus laugh that has some people in the foyer jump and stare. “You should see the boy jump, Lizzie. It's out of this world. He's six inches shorter than Ferg, but I'm pretty sure he's got a foot on him in the air. Out of this world.”

Harry loves to sing my praises. One of the reasons that I can't help but like the guy. I mean, he's a genuine warm-hearted person. I'm going to miss him when they kick me out for screwing up Statistical Reasoning. Damn—I had managed to forget all about it for a few minutes.

“Come on gang,” says Harry, addressing everyone in costume. “Let's do our thing. There are kids up there waiting for some fun.” He bids everyone follow the nurse in charge, and they all follow.

I watch the two elves head up the hall, Shelley and Elizabeth, my eyes automatically caught by the girls’ asses swaying to and fro, perfectly emphasized by their short and tight tunics.

“They're cute, ain't they?” says Harry in his best lummox voice, and a glint in his eyes.

“Can't deny,” I reply. I step beside him as he walks off.

I’m trying to formulate my question in the right way. “Huh, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“The Mule?”

He looks back at me and gives me his best grin, and I can almost believe he is indeed a simpleton, if not for the twinkle in his eyes. “Just a nickname, Garcia.” He practically winks. “Those two girls love me.”

I shake my head, and follow him up the stairs. If anyone can make me forget Statistical Reasoning, it's Harry. The cute blonde also has a leg up in that respect.


* * *


The kids are amazing. Our group has split up, going into different wards, and I've ended up in the cancer ward, of all places. And the kids just impress me. They're troopers, the lot of them, hooked up to the IV dispensers, some of them with post-chemo hair growth. We chat, we make faces, we do voices, and before too long, I'm laughing with them as we come up with odd games for the littler ones. They love us, and it's making me feel a lot better than I did before.

There's this little girl who's probably seen How the Grinch stole Christmas one times too many, and she insists I call her Cindy Lou Who. She's the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen, with a head full of blonde ringlets, and when she laughs she first looks like she's about to sneeze.

She's really taken by my Grinch costume, and she makes me do Grinch faces over and over again. And I get into it, and channel my inner Boris Karloff, and before too long we're singing the Grinch's song, which Cindy Lou says is her favorite song ever.

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch.
You're a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.

We both sing the last line in exaggerated fashion, and Cindy Lou starts giggling, and she half-laughs half-sings the rest of the song with me.

At the end of the song, I spy green from the corner of my eye—

You're a three decker saurkraut and toadstool sandwich
With arsenic sauce.

I turn my head and the girl that Harry called Elizabeth is leaning against the door frame with a smile on her face, watching me and Cindy Lou bringing the song to its end.

“That was beautiful,” she says, clapping softly and approaching the bed. My eyes dip down to her legs, looking delicious in her green tights, and I feel really weird about it because there's a kid in the room, and it's confusing. I think I mumble something, but thankfully Cindy Lou giggles again. “We're singing the Grinch.”

“I know,” says Elizabeth, sitting on the bed next to the little blonde girl, “and you did a fantastic job at that, sweetie.”

Cindy Lou is beaming, and Elizabeth looks at me and winks and I think my heart grows three sizes right there on the spot.

A nurse interrupts us before we can do anything else. “I'm sorry folks, but Amelie here is needed for an MRI.”

“Cindy Lou,” I say.

“Excuse me?”

“She's known as Cindy Lou now.”

The nurse looks at me and manages to keep a straight face. “Really? Cindy Lou? Cindy Lou Who?”

“Cindy Lou Who.”

Cindy Lou—Amelie—and Elizabeth look at each other and giggle. Elizabeth leans over and kisses Amelie on the forehead. “Merry Christmas, sweetie!”

“Merry Christmas, and Merry Christmas to you too, Grinch.”

I manage to grunt my best “Bah, humbug!” not caring about mixing my Christmas stories. Elizabeth and I wave to Amelie and leave the room.

“That was nice what you did,” says Elizabeth.

“What was?”

“Singing. I think it meant a lot to her.”

Again, I'm glad the makeup is keeping my blushing from being advertised all over the place. “Well... it was sorta the natural place to go.”

She grins. “Still, it was sweet. You have a nice touch with children.”

“Yes, well, that's one of the things you get for growing up with too many younger sisters.”

“Lucky you.”

“Sometimes. Other times, not so much. How about you?”

She shakes her head. “Only child.”

We’re interrupted by Elizabeth’s friend, Shelley, who comes skipping towards us and hugs Elizabeth.

“They are so cute! The whole bunch of them! They're the best kids ever. I want one.”

Elizabeth smiles. “May not be the best idea right now. It may get in the way of your degree.”

Shelley dismisses the notion with a wave of her head. “Nonsense.” She looks in my direction, and I can't help but notice once again that's she's just beautiful—which is surprising because I tend to like long flowing hair. But the short haircut fits the blonde perfectly, and gives her a slightly mischievous air. “Besides, they're so much fun to make.” She grins at me. “Right, jock boy?”

She gives Elizabeth a kiss, on the lips, and laughs to herself. “I should go ask the Mule if he’s is willing to make babies with me.” And just like that, she heads off in Harry's direction, her short tunic bouncing and giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her upper thighs, and desire flashes within me, that of bending the little bimbo blonde over and baring her ass and sliding my dick inside her. I shake my head. Where did that come from?

Elizabeth looks at me, and it's like she can read my mind. “Don’t mind Shel. She gets a bit overexcited at times. She's usually more...” She searches for the right word. “Subdued.”

“Really?” I make a dubious Grinch face.

Elizabeth laughs. “No, not really. But she's sweet.”

She's gorgeous, and a little cocktease is what I want to say, but I bite my lip. She's Elizabeth's friend, after all.

Again, the redhead reads my mind. “Yes, she can be a bit of a tease. But it's all for fun. She's not trying to be mean. And you should see the looks the teens on the ward give her. They all love her, and they all try to look up her skirt. And she lets them. Sometimes.”

“That's cruel.”

“Really? Why? They enjoy themselves, so does she. No one gets hurt.”

I frown. “You make it sound almost... noble.”

She grins. “I guess in a way, it is. Hey, it's the season. It's all about passing on the cheer.”

I don't respond to that. I spot Shelley, on the far side, of the room, chatting with a bald-headed boy in a bed, two IVs stuck in his arm, and she's sitting on his bed and the boy doesn't seem to know whether to stare at her face with her broad smile and sparkling eyes, or her legs that are but inches away from him. He's got a goofy grin on his face that rivals Harry's on his best days.

“Speaking of cheer,” continues Elizabeth, looking at me looking at Shelley, “you seem to be doing better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Downstairs. When you got here. You seemed pretty out of it. Worried. I'd almost say anguished.”

“Ouch,” I say, trying to sound more lighthearted than I really feel. She saw that through the makeup? “What are you, psych student?”

“Ah! Please no! No, I just... I know some about anguish.”

I'm curious, especially since she has a bit of a faraway look on her face as she stares out at nothing, but I'm not particularly keen on this conversation to start with. “So what's your major then?” I'm assuming she's a student at WVU.

“Design, actually.”

Interesting. “And where does that lead?”

She makes a face. “I don't really want to say. I'm just toying with the idea still, and it's a bit... hokey.“ I swear she looks embarrassed, and the blush on her face harmonizes with the red in her hair and the green of her tunic in a surprisingly nice way. “What about you?” she asks.

“Me? Math.”

I expect her to react the way most people do when they hear what I study, especially when they know I’m on the basketball team. Like athletes can't be math geeks. But no, she just takes it in like it's the most natural thing in the world. “Cool. Couldn't do that myself. Don't have the head for numbers.”

I don't bother correcting her that at that level math has little to do with numbers, although I get the distinct feeling she would actually understand were I to explain it to her. Which makes me wonder what she’s doing hanging out with the blonde who seems mostly interested in giving boys boners and fucking Harry. I shake my head. The dark cloud that I thought had lifted is back, with a vengeance. I grunt. “Yeah, well, I'm starting to wonder if I do have one myself.”

She looks at me, and leans back against the wall, facing me. Her arms are crossed in front of her, and they pushed her breasts upwards and create a nice cleavage perfectly framed by the collar of her green tunic. “There's that look again. Tough semester?”

“Yeah, something like that.” On the other side of the ward, Shelley is goofing with one of the players, and either accidentally or not her tunic rides up her thighs and an older sick boy sitting on a bed across from her is looking at her legs with eyes wide and I see, just like he does, that she’s wearing green thigh highs and not tights like I thought she was. I love thigh highs. And here’s a girl with a killer body sporting a nice pair underneath her tight dress. I look back at Elizabeth, wondering for a second whether she is also wearing the same.

“Let me guess: top of your class back in high school?” she asks.

“Pretty much. Second. But just because the top was a brown-noser extraordinaire.”

“So top of the class in high school, and probably star basketball player. And then you show up here, and you're run of the mill, just one guy amongst others, good, but not great.”

I look at her. Who is this girl? I'm not sure how to respond.

She does—she laughs. “Don't look at me like that. It's pretty common, believe me. Me, I was average all through high school. So the transition wasn't so bad. Just more of the same. I fade in the background here like I did in high school. But for some people, the step is harder.”

“I doubt you faded in the background anywhere you’ve ever been, including high school.”

“Awww... You're sweet, you know that, Brandon Garcia?”

Wait, how does she know my name?

She doesn’t add anything, merely leans against the wall looking angelic, innocent, almost pure. But the way she presses her breasts upwards, the way she's arranged herself to put her legs on display, the smile that's on her face and that I'm tempted to qualify of predatory, all of that suggests that I'm being played, and played well.

My dick responds for me, and throbs. I find myself wishing Shelley was here looking at me the way Elizabeth is, but I don't actually mind Elizabeth.

“I think what you need is some distraction,” she says, a smile still hovering on her lips.

I snort, and shake my head. “What I need is someone to teach me about fucking statistics.”

“You make it sound like two different things.”

Before I can ask her what the hell she means by that, she leans over to press her lips against my cheek in a soft kiss, and heads out to return entertaining the kids, making sure to give me a little wave on the way.


* * *


The next two hours pretty much fly by, as we keep making the rounds through the hospital, hanging out with the patients and even the parents, which I gotta admit are pretty good sports about the whole thing. I'm not sure how I'd react if some cheerful costumed clowns showed up while my kid was sick and I was half worried out of my mind. But they seemed to appreciate out company, and I don't think I've looped together so many balloons or attempted my hand at so many card tricks before. I sucked at them, but the kids didn’t seem to care.

Every once in a while, I'd catch a peek of Elizabeth and Shelley, and I'd watch Shelley's tight little body. I'm usually not attracted to bimbos—I like my girls smart and being able to hold a conversation—but I have to admit that the blonde one is rocking one sweet body, and ever since noticing that she's wearing thigh highs, I would drop my eyes to the hem of her tunic, sitting high on her thigh, and see that she would flash her stocking tops at every opportunity, giving a good show to the boys that she ran into. I idly wondered what sort of panties she was wearing. I imagined something racy, possibly with lace. I was hard despite the setting, and despite my impending scholarly doom.

It was difficult to not be fascinated by Shelley. She was a goof with the young kids and a flirt with the older ones, but when she was with Harry, she was practically a tramp. I felt a surge of jealousy towards the big guy for the way he had this perfect little blonde all over him whenever he was close to her. I watched him put a big hand on her ass and her responding by pressing back into it before snuggling up in his arms. I wondered how she would look with her legs spread wide while the tall point guard, double her size, plowed into her like there was no tomorrow.

Elizabeth was kind and warm and smiled a lot, to everyone, and she was sexy as hell with her red hair and her mischievous smile, but without the spark, the vivaciousness, the playful quality that infused Shelley’s every move. Elizabeth seemed as comfortable around Harry as Shelley was, touching him frequently, and he responded in kind, hugging her and laughing and generally acting like his most genial self. Harry's always been popular with the ladies, but these two girls circled around him like fireflies.

At the end of the visit, as we're all slowly gathering together after saying goodbye to the kids, I spy Elizabeth pulling Harry down to her and talking to him. After a while, she looks in my direction. Harry looks as well, and he nods his head sagely, and the two chat for a few minutes before Elizabeth reaches up and kisses him, a slow kiss on the lips that lingers. Harry reaches down and cups the redhead's ass, grinning. Amazingly, she does not push him away, and she grins right back.

As I’m told they do every year after the visit, the whole group heads to Maxwell's, where Harry has reserved pretty much the whole restaurant. It's a nice spot. I don't go there nearly enough, and while I should really be going back to my dorm to study for fucking Statistical Reasoning, I'm hungry, Maxwell's has the best Reubens in town, and if I'm honest with myself for long enough, I know that going back to my dorm really mean going back to play Minecraft because I can't make heads or tails of what I should be studying anyways. Denial is the last recourse of the desperate.

We take over much of the dining room, and whatever other patrons show up afterward get warned, because we're loud. Not obnoxious loud, but we're buzzed from the feel-good afternoon, and it's the end of the semester. I'm the only one, it seems, with a bugbear on my back. But I try to put on a brave face.

I'm sitting between two of my teammates, two freshmen like me, nice guys that I'm not particularly close to, but we share enough sports interest that we can shoot the breeze while eating and basically listening to Harry driving the whole show from his spot at the head of the table.

Elizabeth found a seat in front of me, and we chat a bit, the two of us, as well as my teammates, who seem intrigued with her. And not just because she’s cute, but she can also hold up a conversation with the best of them, even when she has no idea what we're talking about, as when we stray into the details of how the league classifies players and assesses their long-term potential. I've seen many girls, and probably just as many guys, blank out during such a conversation. She doesn't.

Her friend Shelley is sitting next to Harry, and the two are laughing it up like crazy. Again, jealousy rears its ugly head, which I don't really understand because expect for the fact that she has a body made for fantasy fodder, bimbo blonde is not really my type.

Elizabeth is already more my type, and I do enjoy talking to her, and she seems to enjoy talking to me, and midway through the evening, I get the feeling that she's flirting with me. I'm pretty rotten at noticing subtle flirting, usually, and I guess what's happening here is that she's anything but subtle. She's taken off her boots and by the time the waitress has passed by to grab our plates and drop off dessert menus, one of her feet is making its way up my leg and nuzzles up against my inner thigh. It's a classic move, almost cliché, and she knows it, because when I look up she's smiling the smile of the cat who's just caught the canary and is about to swallow it whole.

But still my eyes keep going back to Shelley, who's by this point, all over Harry. I don't see what her hands are doing, but they're underneath the table, and Harry's grinning all teeth blazing, and I can't help but imagine that she's rubbing her hands all over his admittedly large dick. I’ve seen him in the showers. The Mule indeed.

I shake my head to clear it. This is crazy. I'm about to get kicked out for stupidly failing a stupid course that not only I should be smart enough to pass, but one that I should have never taken in the first place. Who takes Statistical Reasoning freshman year? Big shot Brandon Garcia, of course—taking on way too much, and paying for it now.

“You're thinking again,” says Elizabeth from my left. She’s moved next to me without me noticing. Dessert has also arrived—I must have really been out of it the last few minutes.

I merely shrug. Elizabeth leans on me, and drops a fork into my carrot cake. I'm happy to share. I'm not hungry anymore anyways. “It's not just the course, is it?” There she goes again, reading my mind.

I shrug again. Part of me wants everyone to go away and leave me alone and let me wallow in my miserable life.

“It's Shelley,” continues Elizabeth, taking a bite of cake. There's a bit of icing clinging to her lower lip, teasing me. In a flash, I see Shelley licking of the icing off from her friend's face. What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm depressed and angry and horny, all at the same time.

“You like her, don't you?” continues Elizabeth. “I can't blame you, she's awfully fuckable in that little outfit.”

“She’s okay,” I say, lying, but also speaking the truth.

Elizabeth nods and smiles, and for a second I suspect she's inside my head again knowing exactly what I'm thinking.

At the head of the table, Shelley is nuzzling Harry, her face against his neck, probably kissing it. From her position, she looks like she's half in her chair and half on Harry's lap. It actually looks pretty hot, and Shelley herself looks like she's getting into it. Harry is smiling and laughing and once in a while his hand disappears under the table and Shelley closes her eyes and seems to moan.

I almost jump in surprise when I feel Elizabeth put her chin on my shoulder. She's warm, right there next to me. For a second, I'm wondering whether she'll run her hands down my lap like Shelley did before to Harry. I want her to—who wouldn’t?—but I also would like Shelley to be here right next to me dropping her hand to my dick and rubbing herself against me.

Everyone around is busy in conversation, some of them slow-dancing in the middle of the dining room after having convinced the manager to dim the lights and to put on some music. I don’t want to know how much money the basketball team put up to basically take over the restaurant like that. But the point is that no one is really paying any attention to Elizabeth and me, or to Shelley and Harry at the end of the table.

Shelley, at this point, is running kisses down Harry’s face, and she’s square on his lap now, and from the way she’s moving her ass, she must be grinding down pretty hard on Harry’s dick. Harry’s making a face that I don’t recall him ever making, midway between delighted and torn. He’s speaking to Shelley, but I can’t hear what he’s saying, and he seems to be trying to reason with her, and all she does is kiss his neck and run her hands over his chest and undulate her body in a way that suggests she must be a wonder in bed.

Elizabeth’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders, her hand is caressing me softly, her head is still leaning on me. She seems to be watching Shelley and Harry, but I’m pretty sure she’s watching me watching Shelley and Harry. I can’t help it. It’s hot to see those two together, and I wish I was the kind of guy that could get a cute little blonde girl squirming over my dick like Shelley seems to be on Harry’s, nothing in her pretty little head but the desire to be fucked and fucked well. And she’s probably not even worried about courses, either—probably majoring in psychology or something. All the hot girls major in psychology, it seems.

Elizabeth laughs softly and shakes her head—sending some of her hair tickling the side of my face—as she see watches Harry trying to reason with Shelley, who makes it clear that she’s not listening. I look at Elizabeth, a question on my face.

“It’s Shelley. She’s trying to get Harry to come back with us to our rooms for a little fun."

My ears pick up her use of the plural: with us, our rooms. "But?” I ask.

“But Harry can’t tonight. He’s rehearsing. Look at her though. She’s trying to convince him to skip the rehearsal. And her arguments can be pretty good, believe me. Shelley’s stubborn. But Harry more so. Especially when it comes to acting.”

“Yeah," I say. “He takes his acting seriously.”

“As he should. He’s very good. He was amazing in Coriolanus two months ago.”

“Maybe, but I admit that if I was glad when he was done with it. If I had to go on hearing him shout, ‘Go, get you home, you fragments!’ whenever he was unhappy with the team during practice, I’d have punched him.”

Elizabeth laughs, her laugh a clear sparkle in the dim light of the restaurant. She remains pressed against my shoulder, and I’m tempted to ask her if she wants to dance.

I hesitate too long, though, and before I can say anything, Shelley is coming to sit with us, slamming down on a chair with a pout on her face, while Harry stands up and tells everyone that he has to take off and to all be good. He thanks us all for our participation in the afternoon, and then leaves, his Santa Claus hat jingling as he walks away.

“Bastard,” Shelley grumbles.

Elizabeth, her head still on my shoulder, smiles gently and patiently to her friend. “Shel, I told you he couldn’t make it. He’s got rehearsal.”

Shelley makes a face. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You and him. Rehearsal this, theater that. Let me tell you, my pussy’s better than any theater.”

She looks at me, defiant, challenging me to say anything. “What’s wrong, jock boy? Too frank for your taste?”

I’m not sure what to say. Shelley looks angry. At me or at Harry is not clear. What did I do anyway?

“Don’t be too hard on Brandon here, Shel,” says Elizabeth. “He’s having a tough time.”

“What tough time? Did somebody stole his ball and he can’t play no more?”

“Come on Shel, don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean. I’m horny. I’m fucking horny and my favorite cock’s gone off to rehearse some stupid play.”

I feel the need to chime in and defend my friend. “It’s not just any stupid play. It’s Oedipus Rex, and it’s a classic.” Like she would know about that.

She snorts. “Like you would know about that, jock boy. Stick to reading your Sports Illustrated, or you’ll hurt yourself.” She stands up. “I’m going home.” Without waiting for a comment or a response, she swivels and heads to the exit. I follow her, caught between staring at her tight little ass wrapped in her green too-short tunic and swaying with her every booted step, and fuming at her.

I exchange a glance with Elizabeth, who herself seems caught between befuddlement and amusement. "Sports Illustrated?” I ask, indignant. “Who reads Sports Illustrated?”

Elizabeth bursts out laughing, and her laughter is infectious and soon I join her, and she’s hugging me as she laughs, and I have to admit it feels nice.

When we catch out breath, I ask her. "What’s wrong with her?”

“The thing with Shelley is that she doesn’t take rejection well. And she seemed to have had her eyes set on spending the night with Harry.”

“Are they... are they an item or something?” Harry has never said anything, but he likes to play his personal life close to the chest.

“Harry and Shel? No way. But we all hang out sometimes.” The way she says it suggests something more, and I can’t help but imagine those two girls—the long-hair redhead and the short-haired blonde—naked against my large teammate, and it’s a damn hot picture. I abort it before things get even more clear in my head. I don’t need to hate Harry, on top of everything else going down the drain.

Elizabeth sees all of this in my eyes, and I have once again the distinct impression that she knows exactly what I’m thinking. It’s unnerving, to say the least. When she continues, she looks almost apologetic. “I probably should go with her, make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

She lets me go, stands up. I think I feel disappointment.

“What about you?” she asks. “What are you going to do?”

“Me? I dunno... probably go home, study some stats...” The gloom is back, all at once, like somebody turned off the light. I’m going to go home, stare at my textbook and my notes with growing despair, and that will guarantee that whatever I’m reading and trying to figure out will look even more opaque than before, and then I’ll grow frustrated and then angry and then... and then nothing.

Elizabeth looks at me, her head cocked to the side. “You know what? If you go home, I’m picturing you doing absolutely everything but trying to study and not taking in a single bit of information. That’s pretty stupid. Come with me.” She extends a hand.

I stare at it, beckoning, inviting, soothing. “I don’t know. I really should...”

“Should, should, should. Just trust me. I have an idea. An idea where everyone comes out the winner.”

I look at her, uncertain.

She smiles her warmest gentlest smile, the one that I’m sure can melt just about anyone’s heart, and mine is no stronger than anyone’s.

I take her hand, and let her lead the way.

New Story: Biff's Christmas Surprise

Merry Christmas to all of you that celebrate! If not, have a wonderful Sunday!

Here's a little Christmas present for you all, a story exclusive to this web site, by way of thanking you for the support you have given me throughout the year. That support is highly appreciated, I want you to know that.

I give you Biff's Christmas Surprise, a little scene in The Adjusters universe that takes place right after episode #14. I somehow could not fit it anywhere, so here it is.

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Biff’s Christmas Surprise

“Honey, I’m home!”

Biff Cusker chuckled—the joke had not gotten old yet. He dropped the bag of groceries on the small table by the door. The large entry porch opening into the living room was nicely decorated, and he again wondered where the original owners of this small farmhouse had disappeared to. Not that he cared, of course. It was a convenient hiding place, and that no one was around to bother them was added gravy. All he wanted to so was sit back and enjoy his prize.

Speaking of his prize, where was she? Biff was about to call her again when he heard the click-clack of her heels on the hardwood steps of the stairs coming down from the second level of the house. He turned to look, feeling a grin form on his face. No matter how often he had seen it, he could not get enough of what was coming.

A pair of long feminine legs perched atop dangerously tall stiletto heels appeared on the steps. A few inches below the top of her thighs, the bottom of a tee shirt came down, covering narrow hips. The tee shirt was large, almost a dress, but did nothing to hide the perfect frame supporting it. The collar was very wide and bared one shoulder, the shirt askew. Biff laughed when he saw the Nike-style swoosh on the shirt with “Just Do Me” written underneath. He then eyed the breasts that could clearly be seen bouncing enticingly under the material. And then, last but not least, Jennifer Hansen’s face appeared, beautiful, smiling, her lips painted bright red, her dark hair pulled together into a high ponytail.

She glided her way across the floor like a model on a catwalk, one delectable leg in front of the other, her hips swaying in a silent come-on. She stretched up when she got close, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard on the mouth, with hungry lips and aggressive tongue. She pressed her body against his, and he felt her breasts against his chest and her crotch against his already hard cock. Fuck that girl is hot, he thought, not for the first time nor the last. He returned her kiss, ran his hand over her back, and pulled her even closer. She moaned in his mouth in response, and rubbed her body against him.

Biff’s hand trailed lower, down her back, down to her ass, and squeezed her cheeks. Jenn kissed him harder, her hands behind his head pulling him down to her. He pulled up her tee shirt and ran his hand on the bare skin of her ass, marveling once again at its softness. His fingers caught in the tiny string of material running between her cheeks. That was the only kind of underwear he let her wear, when he let her have any—thongs, the smaller the better. No bras, ever. He liked her big tits free and accessible, bopping around whenever she moved. And he liked her legs exposed, and high heels, of course, the taller the better. He knew she hated it—she had told him, when he had asked her and she had had no choice but to answer him truthfully, that she was self conscious of her legs, for some weird reason he had not understood—and now he delighted in making her show them off. He made sure she always wore short dresses or short skirts, often with stockings, sometimes nude, and he always made her keep her heels when he fucked her

Following down the string of her thong, the tip of his fingers encountered the base of her butt plug. He grinned through the kiss. He just loved that she had a plug up her ass just because he’s told her to. He gripped the base of the toy and wiggled it and pressed it deeper inside her, and Jenn reacted by screaming in his mouth, her pelvis shifting forward and thrusting her crotch into his cock, rubbing it up and down, seeking friction. She grabbed his tongue between her lips and sucked it like a small cock. He played with the plug some more, enjoying the effect it was having on her, enjoying how she shivered and moaned and squirmed against his body.

When he stopped, Jenn broke the kiss, and pulling her head back enough to look up to him, she spoke, her voice low and sultry. “Jennie’s missed you, big guy.” She reached up to lick his lips, teasing him. “Wanna fuck?” She had a grin on her face that promised wicked dirty things.

Biff laughed. “Jesus, doll, you’re always ready to spread your legs, ain’t you? You’re such a slut!” She shivered noticeably, her eyes closing under the rush of sensations. He was proud of that one—whenever she was being called a slut, or frankly, anything demeaning sexually, he had made it so that she would feel a surge of lust stabbing through her. It felt amazing when he was inside her when it happened. “Here—” he said, sliding a hand down the front of her panties, and then slipping a finger through her slit and into her pussy, pushing it in deep, his palm putting pressure on her clit. Jenn’s legs buckled as she let out a gasp and she clung to him to avoid falling. He finger-fucked her a few seconds, then pulled his finger out and presented it to her lips. She sucked her juices off of his finger, twirling her tongue all around the sticky digit. “This should tie you over. I’m gonna go watch the game. Make me a sandwich and bring me a beer. I got you some supplies.” He nodded to the bag on the side table.

Jenn took a deep breath, smiled at him, and grabbed the bag. “Of course, big guy. Make yourself comfortable while Jennie takes care of you.” He watched her head to the kitchen, her perfect ass swaying under the tee shirt, navigating without any problem on her tall heels despite the heavy bag. He shook his head. He wanted to fuck her something bad—with her body, who wouldn’t—but he also liked to get her worked up. She was a lot more fun when she was drooling for it. And besides, he did want to see the game. Men’s Basketball—Pittsburgh against Notre Dame.

Biff settled in the living room after turning on the large flat screen. His fraternity had purchased several houses in the extended area around town for when an off-campus location away from prying eyes was needed. Kevin had kept this particular one under wraps, though, not letting the rest of the brothers know about it, keeping it instead for his personal use, or as he called it, presidential use. Biff had come across the information by accident, and the knowledge had finally come in handy. Of course, Biff figured that Kevin would realize soon enough that his cousin was here. I’ll deal with that when the time comes, Biff though. In the mean time, life was good. Why spoil it with negativity?

The game had already started, with Pittsburgh up by ten. He quickly became absorbed by the action, but not to the point of not noticing Jenn entering the living room, carrying a tray with the promised sandwich and a cold Corona pearled with droplets of moisture. Still perched on her heels, Jenn navigated the living room without any difficulty. She was a sight to behold, and the main reason why life was so very good these days. What a find, he still could not quite believe it, what a fucking find. When he had first seen her, in the Quad all those months ago, necking with that turd Jackson Randall, with her fucking boyfriend just there watching them like a little perv, all fucking gorgeous with her skintight jeans and her boots, he had such a hard-on that he had forgotten all about the cute blonde cunt in the short skirt that was wiggling her ass on his lap. And then the way she had just turned him down. No one turned him down. No one. He had figured he’d get his revenge some day, maybe slip her some roofies at some point and fuck her up good and leave her with cum dripping off her face, but then he had run into Bernie, and he had convinced the nerd to give her a bit of special programming. Something to make sure she was his, just his, not to be shared with the other brothers. Bernie had been nervous, but had known better than to say no. Bernie had worried that Kevin would find out. Biff did not care that much. Sure, Kev would throw a hissy fit, since it wants against his precious rules—no girl with close friends or boyfriends, he had told the brothers, repeatedly, and no programming without his approval. But Biff could ride out his cousin’s anger. It would not be the first time.

Besides, he was getting tired of the chicks they had gotten their hands on. There was the new one, the black chick with the big tits, she was nice—and she had that way of squeezing you with her cunt that drove you wild—but it was not the same as Jenn. No, Jenn was different. Not only was she beautiful, sexy, and knew how to please a man, but she had a boyfriend—a fiancé, in fact. And that, by itself, made her perfect. He had stolen girlfriends from guys before, of course—but this was different. Biff had fantasized about fucking her while her boyfriend watched, helpless, crying, screaming at them to stop, while Jenn laughed and welcomed Biff’s thrusts with vigor. Like in his mangas, all those story lines about boyfriends humiliated and fucked with. It was a severe turn on. And Biff milked it for all it was worth, recording his trysts with the sexy brunette, forcing her to tease and berate her ex-fiancé, before sending the clips for the poor guy’s entertainment.

Jenn had put down the tray on the coffee table in front Biff, making sure to bend over at the waist, her legs straight and together, so that her tee shirt would rise and expose her thong-clad ass. Her programming mandated that barring more specific instruction, she was to tease and titillate him whenever she had an opportunity to do so, within limits if they were in public. And she was wonderful at it. Biff could rarely spend more than five minutes in her presence without getting an erection, one to which she was always happy to attend.

Jenn straightened up, and stood by the coffee table, at attention, the way she did when she waited for further instructions, the way he told her to: one foot in front of the other, hands on hips, chest thrust out. He could see her nipples tenting the tight tee shirt. Fuck, she was beautiful.

“Take off your shirt, doll. Show me those nice tits of yours.”

Without skipping a beat, slowly, knowing he liked her to take her time for such things, she lifted her tee shirt. No bra, of course. Her breasts bounced as she pulled the tee shirt over her head, shaking her head afterwards to settle her hair. Then she thrust her breasts out again, showing them off—they sat high and perky on her chest, her nipples hard as he had already guessed. She was naked but for her diminutive thong and her high heels, her perfect body on display.

“Fuck you’re beautiful. Play with your tits, doll. Mash them up real good. Make them even harder for me.”

And she did. She grabbed her breasts with her hands and squeezed them, rubbed them, squashed them together, her fingers rolling her nipples around, pinching them, twisting them. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back slightly, a moan on her lips. She was an amazing sight, pleasuring herself like that. He unfastened his jeans, started pulling them off with his boxers.

“Get down on your knees, you little slut. Between my legs. That’s right.”

Her hands on her breasts still, she was looking right at him. “You wanna fuck Jennie’s mouth, big guy? Wanna stick your cock between her lips and make her gag for it? You know how wet she gets when she thinks of your cock in her throat.” And with that look in her eyes, her come-and-take-me-as-hard-as-you-can look, it was a tempting offer. But he had another plan.

“Maybe later, doll. I got other plans for now.” He reached down to grab one of her breasts, and squeezed it, hard, making her squeal. It fit just right in his hand, firm, full, completely natural. He grabbed a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted it, then pulled on it, extending it even further than it already was.

“Fuck I love your tits. And your nipples. Love your fat nipples.” He twisted the nipple he had gripped once more, making her squeal again. “You know what those fat nipples need, doll? They need big fat rings hanging off them. I’ve been thinking about getting your nipples pierced. Give something for the boys to play with when they drill you, you know? I bet you’d look great with nice slutty gold rings hanging off your melons.”

He did not give her time to answer. He slapped her breast. “I wanna fuck your tits now. Come on, bring’em to papa.”

Jenn smiled, that smile that advertised to the world that she was ready and keen on whatever filthy suggestion had just been made. Biff pulled his hand away, reluctantly, and palmed his cock, keeping himself hard while Jenn let a large gob of spit drool out of her mouth into her cleavage and proceeded to rub it in before grabbing her breasts and straightening up and pressing them on either side of his cock. They were the perfect size for a tit fuck, he well knew, large enough to catch his cock between them, nestled it in their softness and warmth. And then she slowly moved her body and breasts up and down, and he sat back and enjoyed her ministrations, looking at her the whole time.

It felt wonderful, like fucking a soft yielding pussy, and the visuals were incomparable. Biff did not know whether to look at her beautiful face and her blow job lips, or down at her tits with his cock poking its head out from between them on every downstroke on her part.

“Please, can Jennie suck your cock to keep it slick?”

“Sure,” he said.

And then she dove down and engulfed the head of his cock in one smooth motion, taking half of it in before bobbing her head a few times and then returning his cock to the cradle of her breasts. It happened so fast Biff had barely had time to gasp when her lips closed around his shaft, and then he was back between her tits. “Fuck, I know I say this every fucking time, but you give great head, doll.”

“Thank you,” she replied, never breaking the rhythm she had worked up. “Jennie just loves having your big fat cock in her mouth.”

Biff groaned. And Jenn continued her ministrations, jerking the hard shaft between her breasts, variously licking the head as it emerged from her cleavage and sometimes slipping it into her mouth to suck it noisily and keeping it wet.

Biff looked at her. He knew exactly what he wanted. She was distracting as all hell when she set her mind to it, but he knew what he wanted. He pinched one of her nipples again, messing up her rhythm. “You know what would be even better than big slut rings through these? Giving you some big fucking udders. That’d improve your tit-fucking skills, that’s for sure. I know a guy that knows a guy that does boob jobs on the cheap. What do you think of that? A nice pair of huge tits, all the way to here say—” he gestured a good foot from her chest then round the sides past her shoulders, “that’d make it pretty clear what you are, right? A big-tittied filthy slut. Bet we could go back to town and no one would recognize you, ‘cause no one would ever look at your face. No more Jennie—more like Monster-Tits. Fuck, I’d get you to call him up too, have you beg to get a pair of huge cow bags. Sounds like fun!”

It did sound like fun, he reflected. But what he was really looking for was that glint in her eyes that you could catch if you knew what to look for. She was still aware of her actions. Fucking Bernie, what a genius, he laughed inside. With Jenn, it was not as evident and as clear as with that cheerleader bitch, Tish or Trish or whatever—her you could practically see that one cry every time you stuck your cock inside her and called her a slut and told her that she’d never find a man because what kind of man would want a dirty slut for a wife?—it was more subtle, just a glint, an expression, something undefinable. But it was there, Biff was sure of it. And knowing that she knew what was happening, what she was forced to do, and could do nothing about it, well, that was its own special kind of hot. Almost as hot as seeing her humiliate her ex. Almost.

At first, he had wanted wanted Jenn not only to be completely aware of what she was forced to do, but also to act as a brainless little bimbo, the stereotype of the airhead, all bubbly and gum chewing and barely able to put two words together in a sentence—an entity completely devoted to sex and to cock and to cum. Bernie had managed to convince him to give her a try with her personality essentially intact. Biff had been unsure at the time, but he had let Bernie run his little experiment, offering the cunt herself as payment for his services, and had watched her as the little nerd plowed between her legs, kissing him and egging him on and running her hands all over him and into those nooks and crannies that had made Bernie squirm and pant and thrust as hard as he could, and he had heard her talk to him the whole way through, spinning this elaborate fantasy involving a bunch of fantastic elements that Biff had no reference for, and whatever it was had done its job on Bernie who had spewed inside her while squealing like a stuck pig.

Not that he would ever tell Bernie, but the nerd had been right—she was perfect with her personality intact, with her filthy mind, with her vivid imagination. The only thing that Biff had done, a few days ago and on impulse, as a tribute to the bimbo persona he had originally intended to give her, was to force her to refer to herself only in the third person, as “Jennie.”

“Jennie would love to get a big pair of slut tits,” she replied, running her breasts over his cock over and over again. “It’ll be even easier to get men to fuck Jennie if she has big slut tits.”

He laughed, pushed her back, and took his cock back in his hand. He slapped it into her breasts a few times. “Is that all you ever think about, doll? To have your holes filled with man meat?”

“Jennie loves to fuck.” She reached with a hand to wrap it around his shaft, caressing up and down. “Having a hard cock inside Jennie and filling her up makes her want to come. And Jennie loves to come.” She looked up at Biff, a pleading look in her eyes. “Are you gonna make Jennie come tonight, big guy? Are you gonna shove your cock deep deep inside her, stretch her out wide, make her beg for it? Are you gonna tell her ‘come on my dick, bitch, come on my dick and milk all its juices out?’ Are you? Please? Are going to let her come?”

She knew exactly what to say to get him worked up, that was pretty clear. Her hand on his cock felt nice too. That was another adjustment he made when he programmed her with Bernie’s help—she could not come unless he allowed her to. She still got aroused, though, and in fact, her body was even more sensitive to sensations, meaning that she would get turned on more intensely and more often, but with no possibility of release unless he allowed her to. Very often, she was reduced to a blabbering out-of-her-mind begging mess by the end of one of their fuck sessions. Something he absolutely loved, and that he recorded often to share with his favorite ex-fiancé of hers.

“If you’re good tonight, doll, I’m gonna make you come harder than you’ve done in a long time.” Her eyes flashed, and her hand picked up speed caressing his cock. “Right now though I want you to swallow my load. Get your slutty mouth down there.” He pressed her head down and she engulfed his cock again and sucked him to the best of her considerable ability. Her mouth dove again and again, and he kept a hand in her hair even though he had no need to guide her head or regulate her speed. She knew exactly what he liked, and was giving him a stellar blow job. He knew he would not resist long.

He came when her head was down and his cock was banging at the back of her throat. The first jet spurted directly down her gullet, the second and third higher up in her mouth when she pulled back to tease the head of his cock with her tongue as she sucked his semen out. It felt amazing. He pulled her head back sharply so that the next spurts landed on her face and on her chest, and she lifted a hand to rub the sticky fluid into her skin. Biff collapsed back into the sofa, satisfied. Jenn scooped some of his come into her mouth, sucking on her fingers. She was swaying, still aroused.

“That was great, doll. Fuck, I love your mouth. But I told you that already, didn’t I?” He sighed, stared at the television screen where Pittsburgh was enjoying a tenuous lead. “Okay, now I wanna eat, and watch this game. I got some money riding on it. So how about you just lie down and play with yourself, get yourself nice and hot for later? And be quiet.”

If she was disappointed, she did not show it beyond an adorable pout. She gave a final kiss to the head of his cock—her tongue lingering on the crown, nimble and caressing—before lying down on the carpet, her legs spread wide, one hand grabbing a breast and the other sliding down her body towards her crotch. She was undulating her body slowly, silently. Her hand slid under her thong, and started playing with her clit, making slow lazy circles, the thin material of the thong hiding nothing from what was going on. Jenn’s mouth was open, but she remained silent, as she had been ordered.

Biff looked at her for a minute before grabbing the sandwich and turning his attention to the game. Pittsburgh was leading 53 to 48 into the third quarter. Every few minutes, or during a lull in the action, he would look down at Jenn, who by that time had a thin sheen of sweat all over her body. She was now finger-fucking herself quite liberally, three fingers sliding in and out of her soaked pussy, her other hand either roughly squeezing her breasts or down toying with the end of the butt plug, clearly heightening whatever sensations she was experiencing. She was flushed, and Biff had learned to recognize that this was an indication that she was on the edge of orgasm. If she could talk now, if he had not asked her to be silent, he knew that she would be begging him to let her come, promising to do the filthiest things imaginable to him and to his friends, to complete strangers, to anyone. But he let her continue, let her finger herself there, at the edge of release, building up to even greater heights. She was a sight, too, with her thong stretched out by her working hand, her legs spread wide, her heels catching in the carpet.

After ten minutes of game play, at the beginning of the fourth quarter, he eventually stopped her. “Very nice, doll—you’re worked out nice and wet I bet. Now stop. I wanna fuck you when the game’s done. Make it nice—go make yourself pretty for me. Dole yourself up, you know, like it’s a high-class date or shit. And wear something nice. Something dirty, but nice, you know what I mean? You know what I like anyways. Be back in twenty minutes.”

Jenn scrambled up from the floor, and Biff stopped her before she had time to leave. “Come back here one sec.” He reached out his hand. “Gimme your thong.” She slid the tiny piece of material down her long legs, and handed it to him. He looked at her pussy, shaved bald the way he liked it, and oozing her own juices. Her lips were flushed red with arousal. He ran the thong over her pussy, between the folds, soaking it up. Jenn groaned at the sensations, but did not move away. “Jennie likes it when you touch her cunny,” she moaned.

Biff laughed. “I bet you do you little slut. You’re sloppier than a whore at pay day.” He pushed the thong into her slit, then ran his hand over her lower abdomen, a finger above her clit. “I so need to put a tattoo here, something inspiring, you know? Like ‘Fuck Me Hard,’ or ‘Make Me Squeal,’ or something...” Before she could say anything in response, he pulled the thong out of her pussy. “Here, bend down and open your mouth.”

She did, and he balled the now wet thong before shoving it into her mouth. “Keep it in while you prepare yourself for me, and suck on it. Go.”

Jenn closed her mouth, and turned around, headed for the stairs. Biff kept his eyes on her long legs and her perfect ass, dreaming of nasty things to do to beautiful brunette.

The fourth quarter was close, but in the end Notre Dame won by three points, and Biff was happy with the result. He had made his money. He was looking forward to March Madness. He had just returned from getting himself another beer, mindlessly switching channels on the television when he heard Jenn come back down the stairs. He was curious what she had done.

She strolled into the living room slowly, stopped, and posed, a hand on her hip, legs apart. Biff’s breath caught. Her hair was pinned up underneath a rather incongruous red Santa Claus’s hat. But aside from that odd note, her makeup was flawless, her lips a dark red. She had found a pair of hoop earrings of that same red. She had squeezed her body into a tight corset, a dark burgundy thing, that cinched her waist in, and only half covered her chest, which had the effect of thrusting her breasts out, nipples visible. No panties. Garters were attached to the bottom of the corset, which left her pussy clearly visible and held up a pair of dark fine stockings. Biff’s eyes trailed down her long legs to the four-inch spike heels at her feet.

Her mouth was closed. Biff realized that she must still have her thong inside. He gestured. “You can get rid of that thing.”

She opened her mouth and pulled out the wadded up material, tossing it to the floor. She then resumed her pose. “This is the best Jennie could do in the time you gave her, big guy. Does she look good enough to fuck?”

He looked up at her, at her little smile. Her lipstick had a sheen to it, gave her lips a wet look, as if she had licked them to get ready for a blow job. Who was he to deny her?

“Fuck yes. Though what’s with the ridiculous hat?”

“Jennie has a little Christmas surprise for you.”

“Christmas? It’s almost February!”

“So Jennie’s a little late... She didn’t know you as well at Christmas, did she?”

Biff laughed. “I guess you didn’t! Come here and suck me hard again.”

Her smile grew wider, and she slowly made her way to the sofa, swinging her hips as she walked. She kneeled before Biff, resuming the position she was in earlier. Without skipping a beat, she slid his hardening cock between her tightened lips and sucked him down to the root. She then resumed the blow job she had been giving earlier, her head bobbing up and down, her lips sliding up and down his rising shaft. Her hat slipped off her head and fell to the ground at her knees. She kept her mascara-lined eyes trained on him the whole time, and Biff marveled at the contrast between the girl next door that was blowing him half and hour earlier and the seductive vamp that was doing the same now. She looked like an expensive escort, and she was his, his to do with as he wished. He could tell her to do anything, and she would do it, with enthusiasm and a large smile. He drove his cock hard into her as she bobbed her head down, making her gag. She did not stop, did not break rhythm. She accepted it, her eyes still on him. He basked in the power he had over her. He pushed his cock into her over and over again, taking over.

After a particularly harsh thrust that buried his cock deep into her throat where it remained for a few seconds, he let it slide out and left her gasping for breath. “So what’s this about a Christmas surprise, then?”

She looked at him with a glint in her eyes. “Are you up for Jennie’s surprise?” She looked like the proverbial cat after swallowing the proverbial canary.

“I guess I am,” he replied, slowly jacking off his slick cock.

She smiled, and stood up. He could see her pussy lips slick with her arousal. She turned around, slowly, milking the situation for all it was worth. She then spread her legs a shoulders-width apart and bent over, supporting her hands on her knees. Her round ass was staring right at him, and he took in its utter perfection. Between her ass cheeks he could see the small diamond that was the base of her butt plug, nestled deep in the dark crevice. He ran a hand up the smooth nylon of her stockings and reached up between her legs and touched her pussy. Jenn moaned, and tilted her pelvis back and forth to force his finger to rub in her slit. He slid three fingers inside her sloppy hole, making her shiver and push herself down onto his invading digits. “You are being a bad boy,” she moaned, rocking back and forth, breathless. “You’re distracting Jennie from your surprise. Now, take it out,” she said.

“Take what out?” asked Biff, still sliding his fingers into her warm cunt, enjoying how it squeezed them.

“Jennie’s butt plug, silly. Pull it out. Slowly.”

Biff grinned and grabbed the base of the plug with his fingers. He pulled it slightly, and encountered tremendous resistance. Jenn moaned when he wiggled it back and forth. Getting a better grip, he pulled it with more force, and he watched with fascination her little asshole distend around the plug as it emerged. Jenn moaned louder and louder as he pulled it out, grasping her knees and keening like a kitten. When the widest portion of the plug has pulled through her sphincter, with Jenn groaning “Aw Fuck!” and swaying on buckling knees, Biff was able to pull it out easily, and he was left with the large butt plug in his hand. He stared at it in disbelief—it was huge, easily two inches across and four inches long, shaped like a rounded diamond. “You’ve had it...?”

Jenn had knelt back between his legs, and was gently running her long fingers over the surface of the plug, smiling. “That’s right—Jennie had this baby up her ass the whole day, stretching her out, filling her up, keeping her on the edge of orgasm the whole time. And yes, it’s the biggest one you got Jennie. She’s had her largest plug up her ass for a full day. You know what that means, right, big guy?”

Keeping her eyes focused on his, a smile on her face, she leaned over and slid the tip of the plug between her lips, and swallowed the whole of it inside her mouth, her lips stretching around the slick surface. She kept it in her mouth while looking at Biff the whole time, her tongue running large circles around the tip, her cheeks sinking with her sucking.

Biff grinned. “Means I get to fuck your ass tonight, you nasty little slut!”

Jenn’s eyes narrowed with her smile, and she let the butt plug pop out of her mouth with a loud smacking noise. She licked the tip with her tongue, slowly. “That’s right,” she said, “you get to take your big nasty cock, and shove it all the way up Jennie’s tight little butt hole. Make her scream like a little girl. You like that?”

“Fuck yeah,” said Biff. “I’ll rip you apart, my little doll. I’ll be the first one up that ass of yours, and after I take your ass cherry, you’ll beg for me to come deep in your ass every time I fuck you.”

Jenn grinned, licking the plug. “That’s right, you want to turn your little Jennie into an ass whore—like this?” and her voice became soft and shrill, and she moaned, “please, big guy—please, please take Jennie’s ass. It’s nice and tight and you can put it all the way in, between her cheeks. She’s just a little anal slut, you know, and it makes her come so hard when she feels a guy spurt deep inside her ass. Please, are you gonna come in Jennie’s ass? Are you gonna come in Jennie’s tight little ass?”

“Fuck!” roared Biff, and pushed her, and she feel backwards to the floor, laughing, pleased with the effect she had had on him. She gripped her breasts through the corset, and lifted her hips and made small circular motions with her pelvis, edging Biff on. He stood, and took a moment to appreciate just how beautiful the girl was. He would indeed make her scream like a little girl.

“Get on your knees, you little bitch! Gimme your ass so I can rip it open! Come on!”

Jenn laughed still, but did as he asked, first flipping over onto her stomach and then, slowly, raising only her rear, going to her knees, her chest remaining down against the carpet. She swayed her ass back and forth, slowly, enticingly, and Biff was mesmerized watching her round silky cheeks, looking just perfect framed between the bottom of her corset and the top of her stockings. Between her thighs he could see her pussy lips shine with her arousal. Looking up he saw her rosette nestled between her cheeks, the tight entrance to her forbidden treasure. It was shiny as well, and Biff figured that she must have lubed herself pretty generously before coming in. He imagined what it would be like to sink his cock deep inside her, letting the anticipation build. There was no rush.

Jenn raised herself off the ground and went on her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder, still with a little smile on her face, and spoke up with the same little girl’s voice. “You gonna fuck Jennie’s little hole now? Are you going to be gentle and slide it in slowly, or are you going to be rough and shove it in hard? Jennie’s probably going to scream if you do it hard—She’s never had anything so big in her butt before, and it’s gonna hurt so bad if you just shove in and out and in and out, grabbing her hips to pull her harder against you. You don’t mind if Jennie scream when you fuck her, do you? You can always gag her if it bothers you—just rip off one of her stockings and stick it in her mouth, like you did with her dirty thong. Then you’ll be able to fuck Jennie’s little hole as hard as you want without being distracted.”

Biff kneeled down behind her, and lined his cock up with her ass. There was the tight opening, shining with lube, winking at him, teasing him. He had been patient—very patient—and now he was getting his reward. This would be sweet, so sweet. He would be the first to fuck her ass, something he was sure that plenty had fantasized about before, but no one had ever done, not even her loving fiancé.

That’s when the idea struck him. He had been so focused on what was to come that he had almost let the chance pass. “You know what, doll? It’s been a few days now that we haven’t recorded something fun for that old boyfriend of yours. I think he might really enjoy watching your first ass fuck, don’t you think?”

Jenn looked over her shoulder, her grin getting wider. He looked for it, that flash of horror in the corner of her eye, probably realizing what Daniel would think when he would see the video, how he would react. Fuck, thought Biff, I have to figure out a way to get him to watch me fuck his girl—grab him and tie him up to a chair, make her to dance and strip, give him head, and then force him to watch her crawl to me and ride me while he’s sitting there helpless. Biff’s hand clenched on Jenn’s hip at the thought, his blood running wild. Until that happens, he would have to satisfy himself with sending Daniel these clips.

“I think Daniel would love to see you tear open Jennie’s ass, big guy. And Jennie’s all excited at the thought of putting on a show like that.”

He slapped her ass. “Of course you are, my little slut.” A shiver from Jenn. “Set things up then, doll. You know the drill.”

“Where?”

“Here’s perfect. Fuck you head down on the carpet, your hair spread out. Nice visual too. Artsy.”

He watched Jenn disappear into the next room—not hurriedly, since that would clash with the glamorous persona that she had adopted for the evening—and come back with a digital camera and a tripod. She set the tripod up next to the sofa.

“Actually,” decided Biff, holding out his hand, “you know what? Gimme that camera. We’re gonna do a little prep before the main event. Give your little pussy of an ex a bit of context, tell him exactly what’s happening, and why? Maximize his pleasure, right?”

Jenn flashed him a grin, and handed him the camera. Biff fantasized he could see, hidden deep in her eyes, her horrified reaction to what he was making her do was about to do. Biff hoped she would never get used to it—at least not before it stopped exciting him so much. He pointed to the ground, while he turned on the camera. “Kneel there, doll. And go ahead, whenever you’re ready.” He pointed the camera to the kneeling beauty, first doing a pan over her body still sheathed in that fantastic corset, lingering over her exposed chest, before finishing with a close-up of her face, her lipstick a touch smudged by the blow job she had just given him.

“Hello lover,” Jenn addressed the camera, her big grey eyes looking as innocent as they could. “Jennie’s sorry it’s been so long she’s talked to you, but she’s been so busy fucking her new boyfriend that she’s had no time to do anything else. She hopes you haven’t been too upset at her.”

Biff grinned to himself, wondering what the ex-turd would think of his fiancée talking about herself in the third person.

“Jennie’s so excited, and she knows you’ll be excited too. She knows how much you like her ass, and how you used to love putting a finger up her bum, and she knows that you were secretly fantasizing about putting your dick up her little hole—Well, tonight, Jennie’s going to finally do it, give up her little ass cherry, and you get to see it all. That’s right, Jennie’s going to let her new boyfriend fuck her virgin ass, and you get to see it all. Isn’t that exciting? You get to jack off watching you fiancée get introduced to the pleasures of anal sex. Jennie hopes you come hard watching her. It makes her all wet to know you’ll come all over the place as she gets filled with cock. See?” She reached down between her legs, ran her fingers through her slit, brought them back up to show the camera how slick they were, before she slid them between her lips and sucked her own juices off them.

“Mmm... Jennie’s getting all hot and bothered for a big cock to fuck her. How about it, big guy—” she looked up at Biff, past the camera, “you wanna shove your cock deep into this slut’s ass and fuck her hard and make her come over and over and over again? Please? You gonna fuck Jennie’s ass and make her come? Please? Jennie wants to come so bad...”

The way she begged with her eyes, the way her tongue ran over her lips, the bated breath, all summed up to a perfect picture of an addict craving a fix. Biff smiled. “I told you, doll—if you make it good, I’ll make you come harder than ever. On your hands and knees now, show me where you want it. Go on—”

Turning around, Jenn dropped to all four, thrusting her naked ass high in the air. The way it was framed by the garters made an enticing picture. Unbidden, she lay her head down on the carpet, and used her hands to pull her cheeks apart, exposing the little winking rosebud that was shiny with the lube she had lathered on. Further down, her pussy lips were red and engorged and just as shiny.

“That’s where you want it, doll?”

“Fuck yes,” she moaned, running a finger around her rear opening. “Jennie wants you to stuff your cock up her ass, big guy.”

“You want my cock in your ass? I’ll own that hole of yours then?”

“Oh yes—you can fuck Jennie’s little asshole whenever you want, big guy. It’s yours, to do as you please, like all her other holes. All yours, to do as you please, and fuck as you please.”

Biff stood up, and went to the tripod. He attached the camera, moving the whole thing so that it was pointing towards Jenn’s face. He wanted to make sure her ex would catch the expression on her face as she was sodomized for the first time in her life.

Once everything was lined up, Biff came back and kneeled behind Jenn. He ran a hand over her perfect rear end, offered for his enjoyment. His cock was throbbing in anticipation. “Tell him what’s going on, doll,” he whispered, “be descriptive. Remember—he likes it.”

Biff ran the head of his cock between her pussy lips, making her shiver. “Ooooohhh—Lover, he’s pushing his cock into Jennie’s little pussy now,” Jenn said to the camera. “He’s sliding in easily, Jennie’s so wet. Remember what her pussy felt like, when it was all sloppy with her juices? Oh! He’s in fully now, all the way inside Jennie, and it feels so good. So full. He’s pulling out. Jennie wants him to fuck her bad, but also wants to feel his cock in her ass. Jennie’s conflicted. Maybe Jennie needs another cock around to fuck her pussy while her boyfriend’s in her ass. If you ask nicely maybe my boyfriend would let you do it? It’d feel so nice to have your cock inside Jennie again.”

Biff grinned. A nice touch, he thought. He pushed in a few more times, lubing his cock up. The thought of the little fag crawling and begging for Biff to let him fuck his ex-fiancée again was hot. Maybe just a pity fuck, let him dip his dick inside her a few times, then beat his ass and then fuck his fiancee as he’s tied up in a chair. Maybe even have her hold on to him as I fuck her senseless. A nice image, that one.

He pulled out of her warm pussy. Jenn continued her monologue. “Oh! Please come back—he’s pulled out of Jennie’s pussy, and it feels so empty now. And—Oh!—he’s rubbing the head of his big cock on Jennie’s little hole. He’s going to push it in and Jennie’s going to be a real woman now! She’s going to walk down the street and men will look at her and know that she’s been opened up, they’ll just know. And they’ll want to sample her. Oh! There he goes! There he—oh fuck!”

Oh fuck indeed, thought Biff. He had pushed the head of his cock against her ass, and her sphincter had resisted the large mushroom-shaped intruder, but it finally gave, and Biff’s cock sank in an inch or two into her ass before being gripped by the tightest ring he had ever felt. It felt fantastic, tight and soft and warm all at the same time. Biff was not stranger to anal sex, but this was prime meat. He pushed in slowly.

“Fuck! He’s inside, lover! He’s got his cock inside Jennie’s slut ass! Fuck! It’s so big! It’s splitting Jennie apart! Oh! Fuck! Fuck!”

Biff kept pushing, inexorably, realizing that he would not be able to last very long inside her, despite having come not half an hour earlier. He gripped Jenn’s hips harder, pulling her back to him. She squealed, dropping her head to the ground, before raising it and groaning.

“Too much! Oh lover, it’s like he’s pushing a baseball bat inside Jennie’s tight hole—so good—so very good. Deeper, big guy—shove your cock deeper into Jennie, show her lover that she’s all yours, your little fuck puppet. Fuck her ass! Deeper!”

Biff did not need to be told twice. He was enjoying the sensations way too much. He pulled out from her slightly, and Jenn protests were cut short when he pushed into her again, going deeper this time, her ass giving way. She screamed, whether in pain or pleasure he could not tell, and did not especially care. He had half of his cock inside her now, and he would not stop until he was fully impaled inside her.

Grabbing Jenn’s head, he straightened her up, arching her back. He grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it hard. He whispered in her ear. “Go on, slut, tell your boy that you’ve never been fucked so good, that you’re willing to do anything to feel this cock deep inside you, that you’re never going to fuck him again, that you’re ruined for anyone but me—go on! Do a good job and I’ll make you come like never before, with my cock up your slut ass.”

Jenn moaned loudly, twisted her hips down to press her ass further down against him, to help his penetration, then twisted her head to kiss him, hard, her tongue licking his lips and invading his mouth. She then pushed her head back against his chest, while he struggled to accept a few more inches up her tight hole. “Fuck yeah! Oh lover,” she said, addressing the camera—Biff could only imagine what she looked like, back arched against him, legs spread, her ass thrust back, her breasts hanging out of the tight red corset, her hair a mess—“he feels so good inside, like nothing Jennie’s ever felt before. Oh! Yes! No one’s ever fucked Jennie so good—I’m sorry, lover, not even you. He’s just so strong, so powerful, so big, he shakes his big cock and Jennie goes all wobbly and wants to feel it inside her. And now that he’s opened her ass, she’s gonna want to have it up there often, because the feeling of being stuffed like that is just incredible! Oh! Fuck!”

Another inch went in. Biff mauled her breast, his other hand on her hips pushing her further down on his cock. Jenn groaned. “Play with your cunt, doll,” whispered Biff. “Give him a good show. Show him what he’s missing out on.”

She obeyed, running her hand down her side and slipping between her parted legs, running between her lips, diddling her clit before plunging two fingers inside her sopping pussy.

“Oh, lover, you wouldn’t believe how good his cock feels inside! Jennie’s such a slut for his cock, she’d do anything to feel it spread her wide, anything! If he wants to whore her out to his friends, to her friends, to anyone that has ever made a pass at Jennie or looked at her like he wanted her, then Jennie will happily do it, spread her legs wide and tell them to come and fuck her, with a smile on her face. Maybe you too, if you’re willing to pay, he would let fuck little Jennie, like old times? Maybe just a nice sloppy blow job, the kind you like? Or maybe you can just watch, watch her get taken over and over again by all sort of men, drowned in cum, filled with—Oh fuck! Yes! Fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”

With one final push, Biff impaled himself fully inside her, her cheeks hitting his hips. Jenn gasped for a second before letting out a guttural “oooooohhhhh!” that shifted registers when he pulled out slightly before pushing all the way in again. It was as if he had dipped his cock in a vat of lava, her ass was so hot.

“Oh! Lover! He’s all the way in! Jennie can feel him! All the way in her ass! He’s fucked her all the way in her ass! Oh fuck! That’s so fucking incredible! So fucking full! Fuck! Fuck! And he’s going to fuck Jennie hard with his cock in her ass, isn’t he? Fuck her so hard and make her come, make her come hard! Fuck! Oh! Oooooh!”

Biff grinned. “So you wanna be fucked hard then, you little cunt? Want me to tear your ass to shreds? Well don’t mind me...” He pushed her down to the floor, and she raised her ass to help him out. He pulled out slowly, and thrust into her, hard, making her squeal. It was though going—her hole was so tight, even with the lubrication—but he soon was thrusting in and out, pulling her by the hips. She was groaning nonstop, letting out a squeal with every shove of his cock. He could not get enough of the way her cheeks shook every time he hit them with his hips.

“This what you wanted, you little cunt? Get banged hard in the ass, like a worthless slut? Look at you—dressed up with your nice clothes and your nice makeup, all elegant and shit—but really you’re just begging to be used, ain’t you? Begging to be fucked like the slut you are? Is that it?” He slammed into her hard, making her scream. “Tell me!” He slammed into her again. “Tell me!”

“Yes!” she screamed, her head between her arms, down on the ground. “Oh god yes! Jennie wants to be fucked hard! Fucked as hard as you can! Please fuck Jennie hard! Please!” She was crying. Biff plowed into her even harder. “Please! Please! Please fuck Jennie! Fuck her cunt, her mouth, her ass—it’s all yours, all yours! Please fuck Jennie! Please make her come! Please! Please... Jennie wants to come... Please...” She was sobbing. “Jennie wants to come...”

Biff grinned. This was amazing. His cock was burning up under the friction, and he would not be able to hold it in for very long. “That’s right, you wanna come. But why should you? Why should little sluts like you get any pleasure? You have to earn it. What if I told you to go off and offer your slutty ass to everyone at school, to every boy you meet, and that you get to come only if all of them report to me that you were the best fucking fuck doll they’ve ever had, would you do it?”

“Yes,” cried Jenn, “yes! Anything! Jennie’ll go and offer her ass to them and let them do the filthiest things to her, she’ll submit to all of their fantasies, and then she’ll crawl back here splattered in cum and with her holes like maws and beg you to let her come —”

Biff was getting close, very close. It was time. He grabbed her hair, pulled her up to him, in the position she was earlier. He grabbed her breasts, squeezed them hard and used them to push her down on his cock, thrust inside her ass as far as it would go, which did not stop him from twisting his hips and trying to push it in even deeper. Jenn groaned, and her hand automatically dropped down to her pussy and started finger fucking herself once more. Biff whispered in her ear. “It’s time, doll.” He paused, pulled out, then thrust once more into her ass, making her squeal again. “Come!” Thrust. “Come!” Thrust. “Come!” Thrust. “Come!” Thrust.

Jenn gurgled—there was no other word for it—a sound that was broken almost immediately as she stiffened, clenching up as if she was seizing. She started shaking, still clenched up, without any sound coming out of her throat, not even that of breathing. Her mouth was open wide, drool pooling at the corner of her lips. Meanwhile her ass gripped Biff’s cock so tightly he could not move and he feared the pressure might keep him from ejaculating.

And then Jenn let out a low growl, her body started shaking wildly, and her ass started spasming rhythmically, practically milking him, and he shoved hard and exploded deep in her ass, jets of cum spurting up her bowels. Jenn was mewling loudly and continuously, still shaking, in the throes of the biggest orgasm Biff had ever seen.

He emptied himself out inside her as she went limp, falling back against him, out to the world. He let his cock slip out and she folded on the floor, in a fetal position, her mouth half-open, her drool stretching out to the carpet. Her eyes were closed. Her rosette was spasming, pushing Biff’s cum out. She had peed herself, as best as he could see. It was an incredible sight.

Biff felt drained himself. He leaned against the couch, catching his breath, watching the beautiful girl at his feet. Then, shakily, he stood and stumbled to the camera. He looked into it from up close. “Jeez man, that’s one amazing fuck right there. That girl’s something else. You’ve got no idea what you’re missing.” He pressed stop.

He needed another beer.