Double-Shot Espresso

Hello. My name is Evie. I'm a hot co-ed, a senior at the College of Vermont It's early Thursday morning, about 8:00 am. That means I had Comedy Carter's cock all to myself last night. That also means I'm suffering from an acute case of cognitive dissonance to go along with my stark rationalizations and lack of personal worth.

I know for a fact that I'm one of several women Comedy Carter fucks through the week and twice on weekends. And, why not? I know Jon Hamm looked like Carter when he was in college. That's enough right there to keep me coming back.

Coming is the operative word here, and does Comedy Carter ever. Looking at it as if our fucking were a track meet, CC breaks the tape, as it is, consistently in 22 seconds. That's a good 200 meters time for a high school sprinter, yet according to most women who are sexually in-the-know, 22 seconds is premature ejaculation.

And, that's okay.

What?

Yes.

That's okay?

Yes. And let me tell you why.

Comedy Carter is 6 foot 3 and slender, and uberhandsome, and hilariously funny. He's so goddamned funny you want to be the butt of his stories. If Carter tells a story about you, you beam with pride, although the irony is you lose your pride when you submit yourself to him.

It gets worse. There is a good reason Comedy Carter keeps the lights low: he has a small pecker. It's okay when erected; well, that's bullshit, no, it's not. I'm talking maybe 5 inches when he's about to blow his rocks. And, this is where my cognitive dissonance kicks in. I'm so excited for Wednesday night at 11:45 pm, just juiced - in every sexual sense of the word - to be Comedy Carter's lover I just give him a pass.

So, we fuck at 11:47:00 pm Wednesday night, we celebrate his orgasm at 11:47:22 pm, and he tells stories until we both fall asleep at around 1:30 am. I curl in his arms, where I happily stay until 6:30 am, when we awake to his initial hard-on. My Slot Machine responds with a lube job, we fuck, then it's time to get ready for classes.

Except today.

Comedy Carter and I overslept, not waking up until the digital clock read 7:55 am.

Holy shit! I vaulted out of bed with a raging bladder. As I ran into the bathroom and jumped on CC's squatty potty for instant relief, I saw a side of Carter I would never have guessed existed.

He panicked.

Evie! he exclaimed! Hurry!

Wait, lover. This may take a while.

Oh, damn it! Hur - No! Stay in there!

I prepared to reply until I heard him say softly, No, Pamela. Don't go in there.

But, she did.

Now, I have tits for which women would die and men will do the touch-and-explode. 34Ds. Baby. Those are some big round ones on a long-legged tall skinny girl. Yet, this Pamela chick? She's petite with Boeing-sized boobs. I'm a mathematical economics major and therefore must quantify everything, so I'm guessing Pamela is sporting Gs. I can't envision stuffing those zeppelins in any smaller cups.

It finally hit me: Pamela is Comedy Carter's Thursday morning woman and I have been usurped! I'm going after this bitch.

But, the bitch struck first.

Cat fights usually begin with the cats going for the head of hair. So, Pamela had a death grip on my bangs and a flip while I had a difficult time locating spare hair in her pixie. Fuck this, I said, I just grabbed her head and looked for some fine porcelain to smash it against.

Suddenly, we stopped fighting, as if the same idea occurred to us simultaneously. I released Pamela's cranium while she dropped her hands from my hair. We gazed at each other. Our mouths formed the first word. I was stricken speechless by her volleyball tits.

This is what Carter wants, my new friend, Pamela said to me.

I wanted to hold the volleyballs.

Finally, the spell was broken. Both Carter's and Pamela's.

You're right, my new friend, I replied. We've played into his hands. And, Pamela, those better be big hands to hold us because I think you and I just figured out the motherfucker.

Yep, she said. Let's go tell the asshole to shove it.

******

We stroll the campus in the uniform of the day as established by Comedy Carter: a raincoat and peep toe pumps, and that's it, baby. Can't believe we fell for that.

Pamela is a good six inches shorter than me, yet there's the matter of those enormous tits. I've moved on from wanting to hold them to seeing how much of each of them I can get in my mouth.

Evie, that was sooo fucking funny when you handed Carter the wash cloth and told him to cover up his...what did you call it?

His shriveled scrotum.

Oh, my God! Sooo fucking funny, she said. I need a cup of coffee, Evie. Where can we get coffee?

Two blocks this way, my dear Pamela. By the way, you have a super nice rack of bowling balls. Some day when we get to know each other better, let's get naked on my queen sized bed and see what happens.

Evie, I just love your name, Evie. That's a great idea, Evie. I could get caught up in your loooong legs, and you're not doing too badly yourself with your tit motion.

Great! Let's step into this Coffee House and get cups of joe and talk about some girl-on-girl action. I'm tired of guys for now.

******

It's the truth, Pamela, I say. A football player, a handsome Frenchman, and a weightlifter, and then Carter, and they were all four cursed with smaller-than-average cocks. This semester has sucked, it can be said.

That's a bad losing streak for you, she says. You'd think at least one of those powerful guys would be hung.

And, that's just not the issue, Pamela. If any of them could hold his excitement for a few minutes? Is that asking too much? A small dick that stays hard for a few minutes? I'd marry that...no, that's bullshit. I'm holding out for a great guy who's well hung.

What about me, Pamela says slyly.

You...my woman, are the best argument I've ever found for becoming a bisexual. Don't forget the tumble on my queen bed.

Well, we'll definitely investigate that, but you'd better turn your attention to the cute coffee guy who just stepped into the men's room. Evie, he had a big knot that just about bursts his zipper and he kept looking our way. I think he's going to pleasure himself.

The cute guy? Straining the fly? And, he just stepped in to the men's room? And, there was a big knot?

Yep.

That's all I need to hear, Pamela. The statistics have finally come - yes, come - my way! There's a huge dick in that men's room attached to a cute guy and I'm going in there! Hold my latte.

******

The men's room was clean. Coffee House does have standards.

I see Cute Guy's in the stall and his shoes are facing my way, toward the door, that is. After taking one cleansing breath, I screw up the courage to knock on the door.

Hello! I say cheerfully.

Hello, he says meekly.

Hi. My name is Evie. Do you have a name?

You're not going to tell management on me, are you?

I can imagine he might be embarrassed being caught masturbating on the job by a woman patron. I'll try to help him out.

Look, Mister, Mister, uh...

It's Trevor.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere, Trevor. Anyway, help me out here, Trevor. I've spent almost an entire school year with 4 different men and all I've seen are small cocks. Just when I'm about to give up and jump my friend out there with the really big tits...you know which one I'm talking about, don't you?

Yes, Trevor says with a couple of shallow breaths.

Are you beating off while I'm talking, Trevor?

Okay, I'll stop, he says.

Thank you. Anyway, my friend with the capital t-I-t-s tits tells me you're packing a big one. So, do you know what I think, Trevor?

What.

I think you are just the man who could save me and save an entire gender by showing me your giant dick. Are you up for that, Mr. Trevor?

The stall door swings back in. The first thing I noticed about Trevor is his lack of height. He's about 5 foot 6 or so, a good 3 inches shorter than me, or 6 inches since I'm still wearing Carter's peep toes.

Finally, I see the man's cock. It extends out of the fly in his black slacks towards me. The head of Trevor's appendage is impressive, about half the size of my fist. I go over how that would feel entering my Slot Machine, which of course is now draining down my thighs. If I took it in, Trevor would have to go slowly, but I'm not serious about fucking Trevor.

Not yet.

He resumes stroking his prized cock hard. That is nice, but if he were to come right now, I'd be in the line of fire.

Slow down, Little Big Man! I exclaim. We have all day.

No we don't! Trevor hisses. My girlfriend broke up with me two months ago. I'm a healthy 19 year old guy and I haven't had any pussy since then. I haven't even jacked off since then. I'm traumatized. She broke my heart. You two in your raincoats and nothing else made me so horny and I'm in here to take care of business! So, stand back!

Trevor! I whisper. We'll take care of business.

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I need to get my hand around that cock.

Trevor. Let me do it for you. Let me stroke you off.

He's wide-eyed and agape. His right hand stops moving. His cock jumps. I guess he likes my idea.

Trevor, I say, when I had just turned 19, late May, before my sophomore year, there was this Italian stallion, Sly was his name, who lived down the street from me. He was a nice guy, an engineer, 40 years old, handsome like you, and I decided my goal in life was to flirt with him until I could see his dick making a lump in his Levis. He was shy at first, he was married, nice wife, with three daughters, but I was like a legal Lolita and I coaxed him into my parents' house in the basement where I pinned him against the wall, unzipped his pants, and unfurled a huge cock. I measured it: ten inches. I was floored, but I told him I don't fuck married guys. I do, however, jack off married guys named Sly. So, I pleasured him right then. And, then, most every day after then. I estimate I made Sly come fifty times that summer. I'm talking about gushers, every time. He liked it, loved it. Then, I got to the point where I would wank my pussy, my Slot Machine, I call it, and get Sly allll worked up so he would hand me his ten inch crankshaft and I would make him come like a porn star.

How big is your cock, Trevor?

Trevor has a "Sly" look on his face. He turns sideways to me. I just about dropped my jaw.

Thirteen inches, Evie, he says.

I gulp and whistle. That's bigger than Sly, I say.

Much bigger, he says. Do you like it?

Hand me your 13 inch cock, Trevor, And, I don't want to hear any back talking.

Gladly, Evie! You'll hear no argument from me.

I carefully wrapped my entire hand, fingers and palm, around Trevor's cock.

Trevor's cock. Trevor's cock. Trevor's cock.

I can't stop thinking about Trevor's cock.

As I stroke his cock, the skin around the shaft moves up and down from its base to its head. I'm beating Trevor off slowly, counting one Mississippi two Mississippi three Mississippi...

That slow jacking is driving me berserk, Evie.

Well, let's see what this does to you, I say.

While still holding Trevor's cock at mid-shaft in my right hand, I use my left hand to unbutton my raincoat. The coat falls so my tits are barely covered. My furry crotch is fully exposed as the inner thighs are shiny from the juices flowing from my Slot Machine. I smell.

What do you think of that odor, Trevor? I'm sorry you can't get any pussy from me, Big Boy, but at least you can see very well what you'd like to fuck.

I'm still stroking the Little Big Man at the one Mississippi pace. My left hand grabs his butt. His gluteus is firing to the rhythm of my right hand. His eyes are half shut and his breathing is labored.

Fuck, Evie! he spits. Why don't you jack me just a touch faster. I'm going to come soon. Really soon.

That's exactly what Sly said to me right when he was about to come.

I pick up the pace. Trevor moans. I choose this time to tease him.

Tell me how much you'd love to fuck me, Trevor. Let me know. Well, know this: I want your cock in my Slot Machine. I want you to stretch me out and make me come a dozen times. But, you won't give me a dozen, because I'm hot and my legs will wrap around you and bury your cock in me and you'll -

Evie! Here it is. My come, for you!

I feel incredible spasms in Trevor's cock shaft as he shoots ropes of the white juices of life that almost blasted through the wall. It is one stream after another after another. And, after another. Trevor's shaft exudes more spasms as he slows down his blasts, down to Carter's level when he gives his first shot.

You're a man, Trevor, I say. I kiss his cheek. His cock remains steel bridge cable hard. I kiss his mouth.

Let's fuck soon, Evie, he says.

Well, Big T, I say, you had a wonderful audition.